


Hold Your Breath

by Sleepysnakes



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Attempt Slow Burn, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Fluff, M/M, Violence, Were-Creatures Au, multiple points of views, possible major character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepysnakes/pseuds/Sleepysnakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is hard when you're accused for killing the Empress of Dunwall. Life is hard when you're tortured for six straight months. Life is hard when you're contacted by an Omni-Potent God and given the gift of dark magic. Life gets harder when you're given an unwanted curse of Lycanthropy. Were-Creature AU Corvo/Daud fic, slow burn as the story continues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Corvo - Your Choice has Repercussions

**Author's Note:**

> This is the only Chapter following the first real mission of the game, just to introduce Corvo's Lycanthropy.  
> ALSO!! The fun part of shipping will start in later chapters or maybe next chapter.

_Lycanthropy_ , a common word for a rare curse that shrouds the souls of normal people, twisting their physical forms into monsters upon the first light of a full moon. A rare curse indeed, granting the person in question supreme strength, agility, enhanced senses beyond that of normal man... An animalistic conscience that in most cases overpowers their humanity and sets them running wild in the isles or even the mysterious and deadly continent of Pandyssia. It's usually found in those small pockets of Occultist groups, tying the curse of Lycanthropy to the Void and The Outsider; a good reason for the Abbey of the Everyman to hunt down and weed out this stubborn affliction.

     It is said that only those who worship The Outsider can obtain this curse. Not a story has been heard of someone being born with it; Surviving a mauling brought on by these deadly creatures provides a chance for the victim to contract this affliction, dooming their family, neighborhood or even town with the possibility of becoming a bloodthirsty, wild animal with no control. Thankfully however, that this adamant scourge is extremely rare and most Abbey posts never have to encounter beasts often if at all. But that doesn't mean they don't exercise practice in how to deal with these creatures: nothing can put down the beasts but silver, and as such all manner of weapons are crafted with holy faith in Tyvian silver.

     Werewolves are the most common form of Lycanthropy. Half-wolf and half-man, they are stronger, agile, ferocious, and damn hard to kill. They hunt in packs, are hardly ever found alone, and tend stalk their prey and take their time rather than go in for the kill immediately. Lycanthropy isn’t limited to just werewolves however; there are all kinds of werecreatures, ranging from wereboar to werejackal in Serkonos, werebats to werebadgers in Gristol, werefoxes to werestoats in Morley and werebears to weretigers in Tyvia. Rare are the flying variety and even rarer so, those closer to the vast oceans.

     Rumors suggest those chosen by The Outsider themselves bear rarer forms and are even harder to eradicate. This, of course, has not been proven. All Lycanthropes have been killed the same way: _Silver to the brain or heart._

  
\----------------------------------------------------

  
     The sound of a seagull squawking suddenly woke him up, green eyes snapped open despite how exhaustion seemed to remain deeply rooted in his bones. Just a gull, nothing more. Corvo closed his eyes for a few moments longer. The attic of the Hound Pits Pub, his room, _quarters_ as they referred to it, always echoed noises whether it be seagulls to ravens or the broadcasts echoing over Dunwall. Those in particular seemed louder up here in the attic, a cause for the poor man to be rudely roused from his sleep. Not that these were the cause for his unpredictable sleeping habits, no... Those came from six months of torture in Coldridge Prison, nightmares, guilt, shame, all of this leading up to right now.

  
     Again Corvo opened his eyes and slowly pushed himself up from the dusty mattress the Loyalists had provided for him. One look to his left hand, an uncomfortable sting ghosted across the skin, a reminder from the strange dream he was just woken up from by that gull. He took a glance and his heart started just enough to drive away the remaining exhaustion from his weary mind. As clear as black paint on a stained canvas. Just for a moment, he ran his fingertips over the mark, eyes narrowed a fraction more. Questions for later though, Corvo had work to do rather than untangle the night's machinations with more unanswered questions.

  
     Rising from his bed, Serkonan unbuttoned his still damp, filthy shirt and dropped it on the ground, moving to the sink on the far side of the room. Could be better conditions, with a washrag that smelled of mildew hanging off the side of the rusting iron sink and no towel in sight. But all the former Lord Protector could think was at least it's better than the prison. He reached over to turn the faucet on, actually surprised when water poured from the tap, first a rusty brown but settling to clear, cold water. Cold water... He slipped his left hand under the faucet, closed his eyes and exhaling slowly through his nose. The clear liquid felt remarkably good on his skin in contrast to hot iron used to press straight burned lines into his flesh. A reminder he hadn't properly washed in months, not that they'd given him time to. Nonetheless, Corvo scrubbed the dirt, grime and sewer water off his person as best as he could before he met with Havelock.

  
     He didn't even pay attention to the ache blooming between his shoulder blades.

  
\----------------------------------------------------

  
     Darkness had descended upon the river by the time the boat approached the shoreline, and Samuel sent the former Lord Protector turned “assassin” off with a few good tips about navigating Clavering Boulevard. Though the words seemingly fell on deaf ears, not intentionally of course. From the moment Corvo had stepped out of his room earlier, the pain he'd been feeling simply just got worse and worse as the day progressed – enough so that during the boat ride his chest felt tight, his shoulders felt like they were lifting, the joints in his legs ached something fierce, and he felt like his skull was splitting down the middle and into his face. Everything just felt tight, the pain reeling him back into Coldridge, a renewed flash back to the beginning when Burrows started the interrogations, when the small-headed Interrogator practically tore the skin from his back with the first set of lashings. Not a single thing could be heard but his own agonized screams, oblivious to the world outside the chamber.

  
     "Corvo?" The old rough voice from the sailor brought him back, blinking his eyes behind the mask. "You alright there?" Samuel was already out of the boat, crouching near a fire that has been started by someone else it seemed. How long had it been since he'd been sitting here? A few minutes?

  
     "Yes... I'm. Sorry. I should get going." Ignoring his body’s protests for moving the way he was, Corvo stepped out of the boat.  
"I'll be 'round back of the Abbey when you're done, sir. Good luck to ya," Sam replied. Quite obvious were the lines of concern etched clearly into his weary, wrinkled face. A curt nod to acknowledge the old man, the Serkonan moved on upon the shore. Perhaps it was a good thing Samuel couldn't see his face, surely it could be read as clearly as any book.

  
     Corvo's endurance had been tempered for a very long time, when introduced to a new form of pain he'd find a way to cope with it, adjusting enough when he could simply wait it out. This was no different, and while he wrapped an arm around a City Guard's neck, choking him out, he was adjusting to this new ache.

  
     By the time he made his way up to the side street, passing by survivors of the plague, Corvo isolated the pain and was brought back to reality when a chamber pot full of miscellaneous objects was tossed out a second floor balcony onto the ground in front of him. That was a jolt the really caught his attention.

  
     "-Just garbage. _All of it_. Garbage, garbage, garbage, get rid of it." Another pot was thrown to the ground a few feet away from the first shattered remains of the pot, breaking with the same clattering noise that sent a few rats running for the holes in the brick walls. The irritating mutterings of the old lady withdrew into the building and strangely enough, Corvo could still hear nearly every word she grumbled to seemingly no one but herself.

  
     "-Go on the _left_ , they've always gone on the left, you never _listen_!" The masked man blinked behind the optics, now staring up at the balcony's railing. His better judgement told him to ignore the old woman and continue one his way; Corvo didn't have all night to finish his assignment. Still though, something was pulling him towards the muttering lady, be it the way she spoke as if someone was there or the fact a steady thumping in his coat's pocket urged him on. The flat of his thumb rubbed over the unnatural clockwork heart – _another gift_. The Serkonan was still having a hard time accepting what it really was, but he couldn’t get rid of it. He withdrew his hand and set to climbing the balcony, slipping inside like a simple shadow.

  
     As soon as the masked man stepped inside, the atmosphere turned unsettling. A small voice told him to leave immediately, but he kept going. One step at a time past the rowboat that seemed out of place in this damp room and down the stairs where he could hear the old woman muttering clearly now.

  
     "The little birdies are sad today," followed by a lighthearted _tut-tut_. Peering over the stair railing, Corvo caught sight of her shadow, cast long from a fire place that made this room hot and stuffy. The way her shadow was cast however put the hairs on the back of his neck on end, it didn't even look remotely human. Arched back, arms close to the chest where the fingers curled like claws, grasping hands to drag you down into the Void. It was the head that made him weary; elongated face with a snout, wispy whiskers sprouted from a thin quivering nose. Corvo blinked, the shadow of a terrifying creature was replaced properly to one fitting the old woman.

  
     "Granny, Granny, Granny, come out with me instead. Granny, Granny, Granny, you can't because you're _dead_ ," she cooed, throwing a dish into the sink so hard the already cracked porcelain shattered the moment it hit the cast iron. Just a small creak from Corvo's boots and she turned around quickly with a kind of startled, helpless expression that could fool most people, but the Serkonan didn't quite buy it. Something behind those pearly blind eyes moved enough to warrant caution.

  
     "Is that you my dear husband?" Granny Rags inquired softly, the earlier sneer to her words were gone, replaced with the demeanor of a helpless old woman. "My eyes aren't as good as they used to be." Her hand swept in front of her blindly, pale and thin, long nails jutting out far enough that reminded Corvo of the shadow she cast on the floor, nearly missing her next words when he was brought back from his musings so abruptly from the loud banging at the front door, rough voices beckoning the sightless Granny Rags to them. The vulnerable mask was placed again, and she hunched over just enough.

  
     "Gentlemen callers again, but not like the ones I used to get, no. These ones are rude – Granny Rags, Granny Rags, let us in! Here's the key to the front door, love. You’ll put a stop to those ruffians, won’t you?" She withdrew a rusty iron key from her threadbare coat's pocket, handing it to Corvo who hesitated for a moment before taking it. Not that he wanted to help the suspicious woman – giving him a knowing look that one shouldn't give to a complete stranger. The masked man stared at her for a few moments longer, then stepped away. He'd deal with these thugs and move on.

  
\----------------------------------------------------

  
     Corvo Attano took a step through the doors leading to the Abbey of the Everyman, a place he hardly ever visited before the late Empress Jessamine's death. There wasn't much of a reason to come here, since Overseers were often deployed to the Dunwall Tower. He knew Emily skipped the sermons sometimes, Jessamine mostly amused by her antics even as she tried to get her daughter to sit through them. Corvo often listened to them simply because Jessamine happened to be there and he was always close by her side. Those memories had no place here; as they bloomed brightly in his mind, the continued ache from earlier simply got worse and worse.

  
     Dealing with the Bottle Street thugs outside of Granny Rag's apartment scared him, a constant train of thoughts were over-riding his better judgement and he had to fight not to actually kill the unruly men banging threats at an old woman's door. He was sure he didn't kill anyone, having knocked them out, but the last one – oh, the last man would have bruises from a hold much tighter, much longer than intended. The constant thought: _Kill. Kill. Kill._

  
     It was unnerving, and he fought those unwarranted thoughts later when he encountered more thugs terrorizing an old man, locked in a plague-infested house. The sudden desire to rip the flesh from the bones of those heavyset brutes became too much, and Corvo started questioning himself. Was he ready for the overzealous Overseers in the Abbey?

  
     Corvo didn't know, but there wasn't a choice in the matter. Not when he wove his way through the darkness, approaching a pair of men here at the gates; one standing in front of a shackled Teague Martin. The masked man had no interest listening to the sarcastic jabs and responses they threw at each other, not when he had work to do.  
He was set on saving two men tonight and killing another. Havelock had told him to rescue Martin, and Callista asked him to save her uncle. He knew Curnow; they traveled together for months. A good friend, one he wasn't allowing to die at the hands of Campbell, one of the men who was responsible for... all of this. Teague Martin, however, he did not know.

  
     "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Teague drawled when Corvo lowered the unconscious Overseer Jasper to the ground, no doubt will be waking up very wet with a horrendous headache. "Get me out of this and I'll buy you a drink back at the Hound Pits. _By the Void_ , I'll buy you a hundred drinks." The terrifying mask stared down at the man for a while, a frown deepening behind it that no one could see. He reached out to pull the lever, not a single word spoken, why should he?

  
     The back of his hand started to burn again, foreign still, and something he wasn't too keen on using - but the burning pain crawled up his arm and into his shoulders. It felt like the skin was splitting just below the blades. It was enough to knock the air out of Corvo's lungs, green eyes wide, and he hunched over. His right hand moved to cover his left, but he had to straighten himself. Was that Martin speaking? _A smooth noise irritating his burning nerves that he wanted to reach out and tear the rumbling throat out to silence it..._ And he was back again, no longer riding those invasive thoughts that once again clawed at his mind. He blinked, looking up to where the taller man was standing. A... Worried look? No, why would he show that to a stranger? Wariness, uncertainty. That's more likely. Corvo only grunted, a slight tilt of the head. He still couldn't hear the words coming out of Martin's mouth quite clearly, as if they were coming from far away.

  
     "-Make my own way back to the Pits." A smile he couldn't quite trust. He didn't need to hear well-wishes; he just moved on while the mark on the back of his hand burned.

  
\----------------------------------------------------

  
     The brand felt almost fitting for Campbell, weighing the heavy iron in one hand before slipping it into his belt. The snoring mass in red was sitting awkwardly in the interrogation chair in the barred off section of the chamber, an empty vial of a dart still imbedded in his thigh where Corvo shot him right before the cruel man tried to put a sword in Geoff's back. The Guard Captain was long gone - a few words spoken, something about the familiarity smoothed Corvo's fraying edges just a bit. He'd said nothing of course, afraid his voice would give away his identity. For all the Serkonan knew, Geoff probably believed he murdered the Empress, and would cut him down now before he found out where Emily was. Like it or not, he and the Loyalists stood in the way of the city from dissolving completely. At least there was that small hope, but Corvo wasn't keen on getting killed by a friend or having to kill a friend.

  
     Approaching the chair, Corvo lifted Campbell's chin up, tilting his head. The masked man didn't want to waste any time in case another Overseer ventured into the room and interrupted this. It would result in a death, something he wanted to avoid. The wind periodically leaving his lungs further pressed the sense of urgency. The pains came at the worst times - like breaking the glasses of wine and nearly blacking out then and there. Having to follow both men down to the secret room, he nearly gave himself away with a scream.

  
     With no time to waste, Corvo pressed the brand to the Thaddeus's face. The chemical compound worked quickly, burning the man's face as badly as any hot iron. Campbell actually screamed, the noise dancing in the Serkonan's ears. Joy blossomed in his chest, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that soon split into a wicked grin. The brand was pressed just a little deeper to the skin, held longer the necessary. _Cause more pain, he deserves it._

  
     The former Lord Protector dropped the brand suddenly, his eyes widening in horror. He realized he was stooping down to their level. Campbell was hunched over in the chair, blood welling up in some places of the newly burned in brand that'll scar him for the rest of his life. Another step back; why was I enjoying that? Why?  
White hot agony surged like lightning through his fatigued frame, forcing him to his knees, slamming hard as he tried to catch himself and not quite succeeding. He could hardly hear himself scream, trying to silence it so he wouldn't attract attention. He swore he could feel the flesh on his face splitting, pressing against the velvet lining of the assassin's mask. Corvo pulled it off in an attempt to relieve the pain, his grip on the thing white-knuckled. Another convulsion of pain tore through his body, his clothes feeling tighter by the second. The seams around the arms of his shirt ripped, then the shoulder seams of his coat. The armor plating under it was choking, and he tugged at it halfheartedly to relieve the pressure, but he couldn't. Not when another wave racked his trembling form.

  
     The Serkonan pressed his damp forehead against the cold floor, not even realizing the blood seeping through his own clothes, dripping onto the floor. Was that blood on his forehead? He couldn't concentrate on his surroundings. A scaly, charcoal colored hand scratched at his face, skin sloughing off to reveal black feathers underneath. His own eyes felt too big for his skull, but that was just a minor inconvenience compared to the rest of his predicament. A feeling of claustrophobia washed over Corvo.

_click-click-click._

He opened his eyes. A thin translucent membrane pulled over the green optic, the pupil dilated, and he felt far away. An out-of-body experience, inhabiting something that didn't quite belong to him. _Click-click-click_. What was that noise? Vaguely aware, as if peering through a keyhole, he saw what looked like a bird's foot in his line of sight only... Bigger. Scraping against the tiled floor while he pushed himself up. He... _He_ wasn't in complete control. The urge to rip apart the still unconscious body that's Thaddeus Campbell was compelling, to pull out his eyes and eviscerate his chest. It was an overwhelming desire. A step closer, _click_ , but he stopped, bringing his hands to his head to resist the temptation to wreak a bloodthirsty vengeance on this man. _To kill_. But... Corvo felt his head, narrower, longer.

  
     He couldn't quite see straight either. The Serkonan's sharp vision caught the reflection in the lenses of his discarded mask, a shape very much like a giant crow's head. The translucent eyelid blinked again.

  
_What?_

  
     Corvo picked the mask up, seeing his hand was longer, narrowed and covered in charcoal gray scales and... Talons? He dropped the mask immediately, panic welling up in his chest making his heart beat faster than it should. He damn near blacked out from that, whatever compulsion moving this hulking, claustrophobic body shoving him closer to Thaddeus, a large beak open wide at his throat.

  
    _No!_

  
     Corvo stopped himself, scrambling back on ruined boots, talons poking out of the toe, not quite gripping the tile. He fell back, and when he landed it wasn't on his back but rather... A loud pained screech burst from his throat actually startled him, it felt like he landed wrong on his arms. That wasn't quite right, and looking down, he tilted to actually see, that there was a large feathered appendage still stuck under his shirt, under his coat, as if restrained haphazardly in a straightjacket.

  
_No time, no time!_

  
     The former Lord Protector would have to figure this out later. He already had Campbell's journal, he had to get to Samuel, but... What was he? No time. Corvo picked up the mask, awkwardly pushing through the side door and squeezing his bigger body out the window. No one was in the halls, and no one would see him up on the ledge. He had to move quick, slipping awkwardly on the wet stone. Twice he nearly fell, twice he nearly blacked out, and he had to get away.

  
     On the other end of the courtyard there was a door leading the back of the Abbey, where Samuel said he'd meet him. He'll be careful here, shuffling through the dark and climbing up walls to avoid any wandering Overseers. He definitely wanted to avoid them now.

  
     Moving over the roof, he found himself staring out at the next hurdle. So many Overseers, so many hounds... There was an impulse to jump, to spread his wings and fly. Another blink, back to reality and he realized that's what they were, there on his back. The horrendous pain ripping through him earlier was his body growing a pair of wings. Not that they were much use, tangled between his clothes and the armor he wore.

  
     Carefully, the Serkonan climbed down from the building and onto the next roof, lower than the one he was originally on. Feathers on the back of his neck rose, a kind of vulnerable fear came over him. Suddenly the dock on the other side of the bunk houses felt so very far away. It didn't matter in the long run, and he pushed on, acutely away to be careful where to put his feet, any noise could alert the hounds and those were more of a problem than their handlers. Hulking down into the shadows, watching one man in that golden mask walk past, Corvo withdrew from the safety of the dark and hurried onto the next and around the bunk house. At this point, the ex-Lord Protector was close to the docks, an easy fall to where the boatman waited patiently. Would he recognize him?

  
     "What the-?" The sudden alarmed voice caught Corvo's attention, his corvid head swerving back to view an Overseer and his dog just behind him. "By the Void, what are you? Subdue it, Vigilance!" The man barked, pointing at the hulking feathered beast. The wolfhound snarled, surging forward and the beast still tangled in all his clothes ran. Sure it was easy just to kill them before they raised more alarm, but Corvo was afraid. Afraid he'd lose what little control he had over this foreign, bestial body and slaughter everything. He didn't want to wake up drenched in another person's blood, unsure what happened tonight.

  
     A sharp turn left and nearly tripping on his own feet, Corvo found himself staring over the edge of a very rocky fall, with the water a few feet further. The hound was nearly nipping at his heels and without much time to think, the bird-beast gave into his strong impulse to fly, jumping off the ledge with strong, agile legs. He flew, out a few feet, feeling the cold damp wind ruffling the down on his face, but he couldn't untangle his wings from their cloth prison.

  
     Corvo plummeted into the cold water of Wrenhaven River. It was enough to knock the air out of him once again, flailing in surprisingly deep water, his wings still struggling to release. His head broke the surface, a loud _squawk!_ Booming from his large beak just enough to catch Sam's attention.

  
     "Corvo?" Was all he heard before going under again, weighed down by his coat and feather, the extra pair of limbs. A small rumbling just above him and a hand broke the ink black water to grab the back of his hood. The boat must have nearly tipped, even vaguely aware of what was happening, the Serkonan hauled himself up, trying to speak, trying to get Sam to move the boat before the Overseers came down, but no words came forth, only a gargled series of caws and squawks. He needed no more ushering, not even terrified by the large bird-beast flailing in his little boat, the old man got it going.

  
     "Didn't quite know you were your namesake, sir." Was just a concern laced jest from the boatman, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill me." He'd appreciate it too if he didn't lose control and kill Sam as well. Another noise, a soft croon and Corvo started to pass out, sure of it with how exhaustion seeped into him, allowing the darkness to fully engulf him.

  
     "I won't take you immediately to the Hound Pits." Sam murmured, just enough so Corvo could hear, "I doubt they'd accept a werebird waltzing around. Your secret is safe with me, sir." A good friend, it seems, that the new were-beast could trust. His words sounded sincere and he let his conscience slip. But at the back of his mind...

  
     Corvo Attano swore he heard an insidious laugh from the _black-eyed bastard._


	2. Daud - Just Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Okay so no pairing stuff up yet but !! they can start it off next chapter hopefully. We're getting close.)

     "I'd suggest you don't try it, but hey, what do I know?" Staring down from the top of the Undine, Daud sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose to ease away the headache that had just started pounding between his eyes. The voice was irritatingly close and he just glanced over at the riverboat's Captain. It was a kind of self-satisfied smile; sharp in all aspects from her teeth to the corners of her mouth. Lizzy Stride knew she could get away with just about anything when it came to the Knife of Dunwall. She was right in a sense.

     "You know, a fairly feared and successful gang leader, Captain of the Undine, but yeah, I wouldn't _possibly_ know anything about this." Lizzy continued, leaning over the railing, back stretched out, fairly comfortable floating down this river.

     "Says the one I had to break into Coldridge to spring out. Says the one who also bit off some Officer of the Watch's finger and- Did you _swallow_ it? That man's finger is probably still festering in your lower intestines, Stride." The assassin grumbled the last bit, back to the rails and staring back at Wrenhaven River as they floated lazily down it, letting the current take them out into the ocean. Maybe she’d take the helm when rocks started to appear.

     Daud had to be careful with his movements, considering that his injuries were still healing. The fight with Corvo back in the Flooded District left him with a long, deep gash on his side that wouldn't quite stop bleeding. The blade he carried probably had some element of silver lined into the metal, razor sharp but it wouldn't prove deadly with just a scratch. Probably for decoration - the retractable sword was a work of art, pretty to look at and just as dangerous. Corvo himself probably didn't know there was silver in the blade, given he too was a _Bestia Mutante_ , or “Changing Beast” as they were commonly called in Serkonos. Daud could smell it on him.

     Nonetheless, it was a good fight even if Corvo was a new lycanthrope. The few days leading up to finding him on the raft, he'd perfected handling the curse well, even though they didn't fight in a changed form. Being marked by the _black-eyed one_ gave them some real control over the affliction, and you didn't quite have to change form to use its gifts. Aside from the healing gash on his side, there were four claw marks across his chest. The bodyguard had figured out how to brandish talons without taking the time to shift, _real clever_. It took Daud some time to figure that one out once he established control over his feral conscience.

     "-Probably know more about cannibalism than I do, big guy." Lizzy's voice broke his train of thought, rousing him from his musings and he just stared at her. One brow quirked up, curious what she meant by that. Then it clicked and the assassin snorted.

     "I don't _eat_ people." He replied, idly picking at his leather glove.

     "No?"

     "No."

     "Mmmhm." The Captain hummed, her grin returning. "Wouldn't know anything about it, huh?"

     "No." He furrowed his eyebrows, looking away from his hand and back to Lizzy. "Why so interested in whether or not I eat things I shouldn't?" She'd really only known him for about a week. Then again there were always rumors of a werewolf skulking around the back alleys of Dunwall, tearing out the throats of nobles and common folk alike.

     "Heard a rumor." Lizzy shrugged. Of course. "Any chance that it's true?"

     "None."

     "Not even when you're a big scary werewolf?" Again, that earned the Captain an inquiring eyebrow raise that made her laugh.

     "Another rumor?" The Serkonan prompted, a tug at the corner of his lips suggested a smirk.

     "Another rumor." Confirmed the thug, grinning sharply at Daud. "Any truth to that one?" The assassin brought up a gloved hand, a finger and his thumb barely an inch apart.

     "Maybe a little." He replied with a small laugh, he didn't expect to be staying in Dunwall much longer. When they cleared the river and head out into the ocean, they'll have to sail out enough to reach Daud's ship. It was an old whaling ship, supposedly on its last leg until he bought it up at a low price with a threat. It was something of a side project, for when he was able to get up and leave Dunwall behind. The ship was in more or less good health, not something to be pushing hard like traveling throughout the entire Isles. In this case, Daud figured he'd retire to the far end of Serkonos, make a new life. By the Void, he probably had enough coin for that.

     "Really now? I usually rolled my eyes at the rumors. What can an old man do? Turns out some rumors are true." She pushed herself away from the railing, on hand propped up on her hip. "And now you're leaving. Getting soft and squishy like a rotting pear?"

     "Not at all. I don't really see myself continuing a life of murder and crime at my age. Figure I'd retire far away from the chaos that is Dunwall City." He looked a little weary now, really showing the months of little sleep and hunting the name _Delilah_. Losing a good chunk of his assassins, the “Whalers” as everyone was so keen on calling them to that witch. He'd given them a choice to go off and make their own living, perhaps even go find Billie and crew up with her. Some like Thomas probably wouldn't leave him, having their lives changed by him. Street kids, old mercenaries, some criminals. Daud got them into some semblance of order and respect, a professional group of assassins with just a touch of black magic. Honestly, he'd miss them; maybe not the life he's led up until now, but his people? He'd definitely miss them.

     "Could always use a new right hand man after snuffing that traitorous fuck out." Lizzy offered. "You handle yourself fairly well. We could use someone like you." The smirk returned and the Serkonan couldn't help but smirk back.

     "Don't know. Don't think I could fall out of being a leader of something. I mean-" he swept his left hand down to the deck of the _Undine_ , gesturing at the men and women still dressed in whaler uniforms, though the masks were no longer on. There was no need to be. "-Still got my men to deal with. Besides, I don't think I want to be on your bad side. I like my fingers where they are, thank you very much."

      That of course prompted a very amused laugh from the Dead Eels leader, thin arms folded loosely across her chest. She eyed Daud with a new kind of curiosity, probably weighing how useful he would be if he did accept her offer.

      "I don't think so, big guy. You're fairly _competent_ enough to stay off it." She replied, returning the palms of her hands onto the railings, looking down at the deck. "Unlike some people."

     "I'll tell you what," Daud chortled softly, reaching into one of the many pouches hanging off his belt to pull out a cigar case. He snapped it open, took a half finished Serkonos cigar out along with a match and lit it up. The assassin puffed on one end for a moment, making sure the other end was burning and snuffed the match out once he was satisfied that it was. Taking a long drag and exhaling through his nose, Daud leaned back against the railing. "If the whole retirement thing gets boring, I'll come back and look you up. Assuming you're still running with the gang business."

     "Absolutely." Lizzy grinned.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

     Simple pleasures didn't come easy; the retired assassin had found that out the hard way. It had been several months since he left Dunwall, settling in a small fishing town just a few miles out from Bastillian. His old Whaling ship was docked further out near a reef should he need it. Figured he could sell it for some coin, add to the small fortune he sat on now. Old habits die hard, when you think you'll need something later. It turned out just like that, feeling the ever irritating pull to go back to Gristol, to go back to Dunwall; _unfinished business_. A good majority of his men stuck around, having a hard time settling into a comfortable life free from a mercenary lifestyle.

     But the persistent call of black magic was alluring, and since his people couldn't quite get a hold of their own magic, sticking around the old man seemed to be a better option. Besides, this old fishing town was under constant scrutiny from Serkonan pirates that rode the waves fiercely. It gave Daud and the Whalers something to do. It ended up being a job after the warmer months blew by: some old woman or young fisherman found themselves knocking on the assassin's door with some work to offer. Daud’s reputation preceded him. A man stealing another's catch, a drunk husband beating on his wife, the neighborhood bullies going a bit too far, bandits further inland harassing the houses on the fringe of the town.

     These jobs never stopped coming, and the Serkonan didn't quite have time to settle into a peaceful lifestyle. It was ironic though, trying to leave the dirty business of murder only to come into a more “justified” version of it. At least the Whalers were happy to be doing something that came naturally to them. The hard part of this new yet very familiar job was keeping his lycanthropy a secret. Somehow he managed keeping his mark and all its powers a secret from the townsfolk, but the curse? Most of the time he left Thomas in charge when people came calling on nights when Daud couldn't ignore the need to shift any longer. Doing so posed the risk of losing control of his bestial form.

     He walked out to the nearby lagoon further inland to relieve the ache that comes from running wild. Carefully, so no one would see him; no need for more rumors that there was a beast among the men. He'd like to settle down, for fuck's sake, not have a lynch mob at his back calling for his head. _Bestia Mutante_ were not a welcome breed anywhere, no matter how well you're liked or how useful you are to the community. Here, Daud had to wonder; what of Dunwall Tower? If revealed to be a Lycanthrope, how well would the city accept the newly reinstated Lord Protector to guard the new Empress as a wild beast? How well would Emily hold back the mobs and promise he's no more dangerous than a normal person?

     People do not like change, and the citizens of Gristol were rampantly xenophobic, even towards their own.

     "Daud." Hearing his name roused the old man from his musings, eyebrows up as he stared out across the small room to the open door. Thomas was there, holding a damp paper in one hand. No longer permitted to wear the whaler's uniform, but the younger man did it anyway, finding a kind of security in wearing something they've adopted for a very long time. The masks were formality of course but no longer required out here. The young man who took the place of second in command after Billie's betrayal didn't have it on.

     "Can't say I'm busy. What is it?" The old Serkonan prompted, resting his hands, palms down, on the table in front of him. If it was another “please evict this undesirable from the premises” call again, he was just going to flat out ignore it. He had all the time in the world now, but really didn't want to waste it on tasks some pub bouncer could accomplish on their own.

     "A bit of a problem. Someone must've saw you." Thomas walked across the beach-wood floor in long strides, setting the paper down on the table. Daud looked at it, pulling the paper towards him for a better look. A bounty poster with a crude drawing of something beastly. Closer inspection brought him the conclusion this was a werewolf, 20,000 in coin for the beast's head. He furrowed his brows a bit, concerned.

     "I've been careful to stay away from the town when on my runs. I don't even change until I'm on the outskirts," Daud grumbled under his breath, then looked up at the younger man. "Could be me, but don't write it off just yet. I'll be putting myself at a higher chance of getting caught, but I'll go take a look around to make sure it isn't some stray." He sighed leaning back against the chair, this reason was the consequence of being a lycanthrope. At one point or another, you'll get caught. Thomas nodded, eyeing the bounty poster for a few moments, considering.

     "What would you have me and the others do, sir?" he asked hesitantly. If it were another werewolf, there's a good chance they'd have to kill it. Daud could understand the concern; _Bestia Mutante_ were very difficult to kill.

     "You and the others are great trackers," _despite the fact you couldn't find Corvo_ , "if it turns out to be a stray, we'll have to get rid of it immediately. I doubt it's another marked man, shouldn't be hard to remove like the other rare breeds. I'll go find it first to verify if it is, or if it's me." Another drawn out sigh, pushing his fingers through his hair that remained unusually disheveled lately. "It would be better if it were just me. Can't deal with another werewolf skulking around." Always a bestial instinct to find territory, to defend it or drive someone off of it. Regular people were just prey, others pack members, mates, invaders to be chased off. Always instinct.

     "Alright, sir." Thomas bowed his head, the air shuddered and with a distorted pop, the Whaler was gone, a transversal. Daud put his head into his hands and sighed, his already busy mind working around the possibility of trouble on the horizon yet again. He knew he'd have to go out tonight. As much as the bestial aspects carried over to the human form - a strong sense of smell, sharp hearing, sharper eyesight - it was easier to pick things up in an altered form. If he couldn't pick up the scent of another Lycanthrope, he'd have to figure out how to clear this impending danger up, short of killing people or just packing up to leave again.

     One thing was for certain, once a sighting was made they'd eventually track down who it really was.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

     Night was like a shroud to Daud, even before he became a werewolf. The dark always felt safest, sticking close to the shadows, enjoying its momentary security. More so now that he skulked the streets as a hulking beast, larger in form with added muscle mass, longer forelimbs to crouch down on all fours without issue. He wasn't meant to stay in this position for too long, not like a proper hound. A short broad muzzle with teeth that still jutted out even if he didn't bare them, and ears pointed back almost always against a changed skull. Daud wasn't completely covered in hair, contrary to the sketches in various books about Lycanthropy; His head, neck and shoulders counted as the mane. His arms were covered, as was most of his chest. A thin line of fur down his back, ending where a short, bushy tail stuck straight out. A true pain in the ass that was, one he could do without. The rest of his lower half was covered in fur, thicker around the thighs and double jointed legs.

     It had rained earlier that day, dampening all the recent scent in this fishing town and it made it hard to pick up anything unusual. Fish, dirt, rotting trash and waste were the usual smells. Sometimes wet dog came up, sometimes the sickly sweet scent of a pub wafted through. Sticking to all fours kept him closer to the ground, easier to press a highly developed nose to the ground. It also meant if anyone came out, they'd probably mistake him for a really large dog. Well if they squinted hard enough. At least the tail came in handy there. The difference between him and any other _Bestia Mutante_ was that, his mind was completely intact. There was always a wild call urging him to hunt, to kill, to devour the hearts of his prey - but it was just a craving now, like a man with his whiskey. It can be ignored. Those marked by the Outsider retain their own minds while shifted, but there’s a price; if you refuse to shift, you'll degrade back into a rabid beast fit to be put down.

     So when a villager appeared, he could just turn tail and run instead of going right for the throat. But, he was on a mission tonight and avoiding people was a primary concern. Luckily for him, a good majority of folk stayed inside, perhaps due to the rumors of a rogue werewolf wandering around. It wasn't the night of a full moon, so chances of him actually finding the stray were slim to none. Still a chance, but very slight.

     Daud just made his third lap around the entire village, a frustrated sigh between his jaws as he stood up from the ground, flexing aching knuckles for being down so low the entire time. There was nothing, just the usual scents. Even his heightened sense of smell couldn't pick anything up, and it was irritating. A waste of time at the expense of his safety, but then again he wasn’t known for taking his own wellbeing into consideration. Perhaps he was careless some other night. Perhaps someone had seen him. The thought made his lip curl, pulling back to show effectively dangerous teeth.

     Better to call it a night and get home before the alarm was raised.

     That's when Daud felt the ever lingering sensation of someone watching him. Usually acutely aware of this feeling, being one of very few who possessed the Outsider’s mark on the back of his left hand. This wasn't the same, the black hair on the back of his neck stood on end; bristling. Slowly, he looked up towards the roof tops, seeing something move at the corner of his peripheral vision. The werewolf swung around, a silent warning growl rumbling deep in his throat. Scanning the roof edges for any sign of movement, ears normally laid back were on full alert, listening, straining, searching. The distant sound of the ocean pushing against stone and sand, the wind rustling through trees, a very distant laugh in a nearly empty bar and crickets even further out but... There. The soft brush of something moving over stone tiles that adorned these simple houses. Something was up there.

     Daud lifted his muzzle to breathe in deeply, trying to catch a scent, but still it eluded him. Wet stone tile didn't hold a scent very well, and he realized that the reason he couldn't find anything was because this stray wasn't on the ground. Clever. Unusually clever though. Judging the distance, the dusky werewolf settled back on his haunches, green eyes intent on the ledge above him. One powerful kick pushed him off the ground, high onto the ledge where he landed into a crouch to absorb most of his added weight. That wasn't an easy jump for a normal person, and up high he could see over most of these houses.

     Again he squinted, slowly rising from his position as he steadily observed the silhouettes of each tiled roof. Ears twitching in different direction, a flick here, a swivel there, coaxing the noise he heard out again. He heard it again, what felt like pads from an apex predator's changed digits sliding over tile. Unnervingly close. The short stiff whiskers at the jowls of his muzzle quivered in anticipation, lips pulled back into a snarl to once more reveal deadly fangs.

     The bestial Serkonan barely turned in time, jaws snapping just near the throat of the werebeast that flung itself at him. Razor claws dug into his shoulders, pushing him off the building. He wouldn't let it leave, his own claws hooking into the other's side as they dropped, trying to roll so the stray would hit the ground. Daud didn't have the momentum and landed hard on his back with the other on top of him, snapping, snarling, and trying to go for the throat. With no intention to having his neck torn to pieces, the Serkonan wolf kicked the creature's belly, sending it flying further than he intended and rolled over immediately to all fours, crouching low. The creature landed hard on its shoulder a few feet away, scrambling to get up to either run off or continue the assault.

     In the half light, Daud got a chance to look at his attacker. Slimmer in build, though no lightweight by any means. The muscle mass in the arms and legs were proof of it, covered in a thick brown or black fur that hung off the limbs loosely. White claws jutted out of the hairy mass what he could tell were hands, long and curved. The head, though a little flatter, has a similarly short broad muzzle that accompanied many werebeasts. The teeth, however, were much bigger than his, and his weren’t small. The rounded ears pressed flat, nearly hidden in the thick hair gave him the impression that this was more bear-like than wolf. The bushy tail however told him a different story.

_Werewolverine_. A dangerous rare beast. This one was female given the slighter body shape, but in the long run that hardly mattered.

     The wolverine lunged again at the wolf, jaws snapping once more for his neck. Despite the speed she displayed, a heavy paw smashed into the side of her head, halting her advance and bowling the creature over into a furious mass of writhing limbs that stood up a quick moment later and charged again. Unmoving, Daud readied himself for the onslaught, diving forward only to have his back raked with those wickedly long claws. They dug deep, pulling his entire mass back with the werebeast as she adhered to his spine. He snapped at her ankle, bone crushing teeth breaking through skin and muscle. The squeal was loud enough to echo through the quiet streets of this fishing town, definitely enough to catch someone's attention. The wolverine unleashed a whirlwind of punishment onto the Serkonan's back in retaliation, a high pitched keening noise resonating from the creature's throat.

     An anguished growl rumbled through the black wolf, but the amount of pain was bearable at the very least, and he didn't release her ankle. Crushing down until he could feel the bones starting to crack and splinter, the high pitch squeal sounded again, only to cut off at the back of his neck where those savage teeth sunk into soft flesh. Once, twice, three times she bit him, to get him to let go, twisted and bent like a weasel with its leg trapped. Daud yanked the wolverine off, pinning her as rage blurred his vision. There was a scuffle where he allowed his primal instinct take over, ignoring those curved sharp claws digging into his neck, shoulders, head. His teeth found her throat and crushed the windpipe without a second thought. Warm blood gushed into his mouth, igniting the raw fury that made him lust for the hunt.

_Devour._

     Pulling back with the flesh still in his mouth, pulling sinew and cartilage, tearing veins and arteries into a bright red mess that sprayed the already damp ground. The flurry of claws had started to weaken at this point, desperate but in vain. The wolverine wouldn't survive this, Daud killed many _Bestia Mutante_ without the use of silver. Consuming the flesh of another, eating the heart, was always a sure way to extinguish its life. The beast inside him demanded it. He went down for another bite, teeth tearing further into the gaping wound his fangs had already inflicted, the blood a flowing as freely as any river. He hardly felt the claws dig into his shoulders, the way they gave way and the body shuddered in its death throes. The black wolf pulled at the corpse in another bite, nearly finished decapitating it.

     A small gasp caught his attention. Blood dripping from his muzzle, the Serkonan wolf looked up to stare at the small group of people who had ventured out of their homes to investigate the screeches that came from the she-beast. Daud had already let his bestial side take over for this, indulging the bloodthirsty dangerous nature of a lycanthrope. His lips pulled back into a snarl, rising up from the corpse, arms raising a bit from his sides as he stood to his full height. He towered over the townsfolk by a good two feet.

     "The sightings were right..."

     "What do we do?"

     " _Kill_ it."

     "Kill the beast!"

     "Kill the beast!" The crowd had started chanting, some who had already gathered pitchforks, machetes, knives and other sharp objects to find the unnatural screaming were ready to try to kill this werebeast. " _Kill the beast!_ "

     Daud snapped back, a hard roar erupting from his throat enough to stagger the crowd in irrational fear, stepping back when he stepped forward.

     "We must kill the beast!" One of the men shouted, stepping forward to meet the wolf's challenge. An agreeable yell, for how can they be safe with this monstrosity lurking around every corner? The crowd surged forward.

_Good._

     Daud stepped back, his green eyes reflecting the light from lanterns and the moon, making them glow. Another snarl, claws out stretched, but instead of jumping into the armed fray, the werewolf turned tail and ran.

    "Follow it!" A woman shrilled as two fishermen already started forward, "Don't let it escape!" The crowd bustled forward after him.

    Two sets of boots rematerialize near the corpse of the werewolverine the moment the crowd left, standing far enough away from the blood puddle still pooling around the steaming body.

    "Daud went a little overboard with this one," the muffled voice of a Whaler said, staring down at the corpse. "He could have killed it without gaining so much attention."

    "Yeah, but remember, being a _Bestia Mutante_ is tricky. He stuck to the plan, but I wouldn't be surprised if the wild side of him took control for a bit," Thomas replied quietly. "We have to be quick though. Before anyone returns."

    "I've brought the silver dart. Are you prepared?" The other Whaler asked, looking over at Daud's second in command.

    "I am. When we return to the shack, make sure you aim for the heart." They both grabbed the arm of the werebeast and dissipated.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

     "And why didn't you stop me?" Daud growled, reeling against the table while trying to find his wits. The remaining hours of the chase along with the shift back into a human form with all his injuries still open was nearly too much for the old Serkonan to handle. He still had blood dried around his mouth, smeared down his neck and chest. Breathing was a chore.

     "Would you even let us is the question," a man with bronze skin adorned in jet black tattoos replied, his brown hair cut close to his scalp aside from a strip on top of his head that was bound into a short bun. "You've got a worse temper in a changed form than you do now."

     "Liam?"

     "Yes, sir?"

     "Shut up." Daud massaged his temple, willing the pounding headache away. "Thomas, you said there was troubling news, care to elaborate before I lose my patience?" The young man perked up immediately.

     "I'm surprised you didn't notice it to begin with, Daud." He threw a bundle onto the table the assassin was leaning against and stepped away. "Liam and I noticed it when we got back here. Under the fur... At closer inspection there were vines and thorns-"

     "And roses." Liam added, brown eyes narrowed.

     "Roses?" The Serkonan looked down at the bundle, pushing the silk away to look at the maroon flower as pristine as ever. He wrinkled his nose, noting the disgustingly sweet smell that wafted up from it; death and black magic.

     " _Delilah_."

     "Last I checked, Delilah was a panther, not a wolverine." Daud replied, covering the rose again.

     "One of her witches. She was covered in thorns," Thomas replied, head tilted just a bit. "What do you make of it?"

     "Trouble. Another mystery. _Why_ is one of Delilah's witches here? It still reeks of black magic... which should had faded a long time ago." The assassin spat on the ground, rubbing the side of his mouth and dislodging a few flakes of dried blood. "I don't like it."

    "What would you have us do then?" Liam inquired. "It could just be a coincidence."

    "I don't believe in coincidences. I'm already on high alert after that messy stunt last night." His green eyes met brown and amber.

    "Sir?"

     "It's a good thing I kept the boat. Gather whoever is willing to go back to Dunwall. We leave at sundown."


	3. Corvo - The Heart of the Empire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy I struggled with this chapter, but it's longer than the other two! Check end of chapter for additional notes.

     " _Coooooorvo... Cooooooooooorvo_... come on, sleepyhead." The voice sounded fairly far away to the Lord Protector. He blinked once, twice, eyebrows raising just a bit. He didn’t remember falling asleep. He was sitting at a low table that had a white tablecloth with laced edges and swirling red embroidery thrown over it. A small tea set – expensive, from Tyvia – was placed delicately over the surface. Silverware no bigger than his index finger placed on silk napkins next to equally as small plates that matched the tea set. In the center of the table was a three tier pastry display that had all manners of over the top sweet delicacies Corvo himself wasn't too interested in. Here he was sitting on a much too small chair with his knees uncomfortably to his chest, but really he didn't mind one bit.

  
     Emily may be Empress, but she was still a ten year old girl who still had a right to enjoy childish interests, and despite the disapproval of the Lords and Ladies in Court, Corvo always gave his time away to play such games with the kid. Anyone who argued would find more than just a disgruntled stare from the Serkonan.

  
     "You with me, Corvo?" Emily inquired from across the table the suited her size more so than Corvo's. “You kind of blanked out there." The smile faltered just a bit and she set down his tea cup gently onto its plate. "Are you okay?"

  
     "Yes. Yes, I'm fine, Emily." He replied, voice quiet. Was he fine though? The Lord Protector didn't even realize he'd zoned out until the young Empress brought him back from it. Normally he was always on high alert due to crippling paranoia that stuck with him after Jessamine's death and the Loyalists’ betrayal. He narrowed his green eyes, looking down at the teacup filled with red tinted tea. Corvo nudged it with the tip of his finger, his frown deepening just a bit. Better stop dwelling on it for now while he's spending proper time with his daughter.

  
     Corvo looked up at Emily again, a small smile spreading across his lips. He nodded his head in the direction of her doll sitting in an equally as small chair with her own cup of tea left untouched in front of her.

  
     "Do you think Mrs. Pilsen enjoyed the cherry danishes?" the Serkonan inquired, changing the subject from his obvious exhaustion to something a little more playful and lighthearted. Emily could only smile of course, her hands on her knees and she scooted forward on the edge of her seat.

  
     "She's more partial to the strawberry cupcakes really," the little Empress replied, looking fondly at the doll. Trying to find that thing was a right pain in the ass, a needle in a haystack situation. Still, they managed to find her and Emily couldn't be any happier. To Corvo, that meant the world.

  
     "Really? I kind of like the danishes." He gave Mrs. Pilsen a sideways glance. "I suppose that means more for me and the bear," he sighed, looking over at the last seat that had a rather large, fluffy white stuffed bear sitting rather awkwardly in its chair. A button eye was missing.

  
     The ten year old grinned, amused by this whole thing and she truly did look like a child at that moment. The past several months including the six held in the Golden Cat seemed to evaporate at that point, but that was just the surface. The Lord Protector knew she wouldn't quite shed all of that experience, including being witness to her mother's death, quite as easily. He'd heard her talking in her sleep, looking just as tired as he was in the morning. Some days Corvo just wanted to hug her close and fight away every negative, nagging thought.

  
     "Oh don't worry. I enjoy them too! Personally, I find them better than the tarts." She giggled, "I could feed them to the puppies walking around the Tower, but I was told sweet things aren't good for them."

  
     "Sweet things tend to give them stomachaches, I agree. You should... probably stay away from the wolfhounds, Emily. They're not all that friendly." Being on the receiving end of those bone crushing jaws and teeth, he knew how dangerous those dogs were. He didn't hate them though, nor did he fear them. Enough to warrant caution, since the Overseers still insist on staying in the Tower. He didn’t want his child and charge being bitten by one, seeing how friendly she was toward them.

  
     "Aww... But there's this one who's got a real whiskery face! I think his name is... Marven? He wags his tail so hard his butt wiggles! I think it's the cutest thing. Nothing that cute can be angry," Emily pointed out, palms down on the soft tablecloth.

  
     "Looks can be deceiving just... Be careful? For me? Please?" Corvo asked, his frown deepening just a bit, enough to make his already exhausted expression look wearier. Just for a few moments, Emily looked like she was about to argue, then sighed and nodded.

  
     "Alright, Corvo. I'll be careful around the puppies," she finally agreed, and Corvo could feel his shoulders relax just a bit.

  
     "Thank you, Emily," the Serkonan replied, shifting just a bit in the small chair, feeling a few clicks in his spine due to his extended stay in this position. "Can't let the tea grow cold." He smiled when the young Empress brightened up again.

  
     "Would you like some more tea, Lord Corvo?" The girl inquired, slipping back into her tea party regime, picking the porcelain teapot up daintily.

  
     "Of course, Lady Emily."

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------

  
     Late at night and closing the door to Emily's room behind him gently, Corvo listened. The Tower seemed to be rather quiet tonight, heightening his paranoia about the location of guard patrols. When he heard the distant clicking of boot heels on the tiled floor some ways away, the Lord Protector allowed his shoulders to relax. It had been a rather long day, one where the young Empress had to attend meetings with another delegate from Serkonos. The fifth time this month, actually, and Corvo had a mind to toss the man out on his ass for continuing to talk circles around the young lady.

  
     Before he got a chance to go to sleep tonight, Corvo had to stop by and visit Curnow. After Emily's ascension to the throne, she brought him back to work as Guard Captain for the Tower. With Callista also working here, how could Geoff say no? He was rather effective with planning the patrol routes every night. How good they really are could only be tested if someone actually broke into the Tower. There was no way to safely test this, and Corvo had no intent to needlessly put Emily's life in danger.

  
     "Evening, Corvo," Geoff said, glancing up from the map on the table. "Checking in on tonight's routes?" he inquired, standing straight now, one hand flat on the surface of the wooden table.

  
     "As always," the Serkonan agreed, a small smile forming. "Anything unusual tonight?" he asked, the usual question night after night before bed. There was, of course, nothing going on since the cure for the plague was finally realized. Well... nothing that threatened Dunwall Tower. A troubled look that crossed over Captain Curnow's face caught Corvo's attention.

  
     "Geoff?"

  
     "There is something. Which is why I'm glad you stopped by tonight. We've been getting reports from inside the city, brutal murders happening in dark alleyways, sewers, late at night on open streets. Citizens and City Watch alike. We figured it was due to gang activity at first, but all the murders are the same; victims are absolutely mutilated," Curnow explained. "This is going on in various parts of the city, so we can't just rule out a single person doing this. I've heard what the Overseers had suggested, werebeasts and the like."

  
     Corvo stared at the map for a few moments, frozen at the thought of werebeasts. They were hard to kill, he knew this from personal experience - but that had been a special case. Throughout that week he'd been active as the masked felon, he had never come across a lycanthrope aside from Granny Rags and Daud. But they weren't normal creatures of the night, just like him. Even before then, he'd never come across these creatures before. Mostly myth, stories to tell Emily at night if she wasn't on her best behavior, a small laugh really. To have this many possibilities was unreal.

  
     "The Overseers are taking over the investigation, naturally, since they're better suited to hunt the creatures down, but... we should probably fortify the Tower just in case." The Guard Captain sighed, his hip leaning against the table. "I've heard stories of how difficult these creatures are to kill. I have every confidence in my guardsmen to protect the Tower and Empress Emily..."

  
     "But you don't think they can actually protect her from the threat itself because of these stories," the Serkonan finished, his frown deepening. "I understand. I agree. Maybe..." - he really hated the idea of this - "we bring in a couple more Overseers to double the patrols. They know what they're doing with werebeasts." And a likely chance of accusing anything on two legs of heresy, Corvo included.

  
     "There's a suggestion. I was thinking the same thing but after the... ah... well I figured I'd start a training regiment for the current guardsmen, just in case." The obvious distrust for the Overseer faction was something Corvo understood well.

  
     "That's an idea." But still, if a few extra Overseers in the Tower meant a difference in Emily's safety, Corvo would be all in for that idea. Perhaps even getting the Overseers to train the current guardsmen here would work in their favor, but trying to get cooperation out of those overzealous priests wasn't an easy task to accomplish.

  
     "Perhaps get the current guardsmen swords lined with silver. An extra precaution until we sort this thing out," Corvo continued, pushing a stray strand of hair out of his face, "I don't particularly look forward to setting up a meeting with Overseers, but it's necessary." By the Void he was tired.

  
     "I'll make sure the patrols tonight are airtight. Go get some rest, Corvo. I'll keep you updated on the men's training," Captain Curnow said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, which the Serkonan returned with a small smile. Another glance down at the map, a nagging paranoid thought of “ _It won't be good enough!_ ” kept repeating in the back of his mind. The Lord Protector had to put his faith in Geoff; he was a good man, a reliable one. Just...get some rest, and figure the rest of it out tomorrow. After all, he wouldn't be useful if he couldn't focus.

  
     "Alright," The Serkonan replied quietly. "Goodnight, Geoff." With a nod of the head, Corvo left the room and made his way back to his chambers near the young Empress's room.

  
     Just in case there was trouble.

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------

  
_"How dare you." The old witch hissed, the steam from the boiling tub of fluid obscuring her form as it twisted shape. "How dare you. I'll make sure my birdies pick your bones clean." The malicious threat shook the masked man to the core. He shouldn't feel fear, but this old woman, Granny Rags, had always given him reason to be wary._

  
_"Get the cameo, Corvo," the rough voice of the Bottle Street Gang leader rumbled, the sound of a blade slipping free from its sheathe louder than it should have as the mist flooded into the air. "I'll keep her busy."_

  
_"Slackjaw," the Serkonan growled in warning. "Be careful of the rats." The warning only incited an amused chuckle from the Gang Leader._

  
_"What do ya take Slackjaw for? Be quick, Corvo, and I may still yet walk this earth," he replied, pulling the pistol from its holster and stepping off the flat rock he'd been held on. There was no time left; the masked man could still see the makeshift shack sitting precariously on the ledge of the highest wall, the rusty stairs leading up to it. Taking a breath, Corvo also stepped off the ledge and took off like a man running for his life up the stairs. The rusted metal vibrated dangerously with every step, but it didn't warrant caution._

  
_The fog broke the moment he stepped into the dreary room, suddenly hit with a wave of heat, the Serkonan noted the blast furnace lit on one side of the room. A bed situated neatly near it, soft blankets, silk pillows, usually fit to be seen in a noble's bedroom._

  
_Aside from that, the room had clutter; tables with miscellaneous objects scattered around, notes and books, pages ripped from diaries. Where the fuck would he even begin to look? A faint glimmer caught his eye though, attracted to rather shiny objects like a Morley magpie, an after effect of being a lycanthrope himself. The glimmer came from the shadows under one of the silk pillows, reflecting the fire's light. Quickly, Corvo shoved the pillow away, picking up the small cameo that had what appeared to be a younger version of Granny Rags, Vera Moray. There was no time to sit there and stare; a life was at stake here. One he wasn't going to just throw away - the man had helped him, after all._

  
_The Serkonan stepped away from the bed, pulling the lever that turned the flames he was so cautious of off and pushed the hot grate down. He threw the cameo into the furnace, pushing the grate back up again and went for the lever. He barely noticed the shadow in the doorway, he barely noticed Slackjaw's warning yell. He barely noticed the many glowing eyes starting to appear from the shadows._

  
_A high pitched screech sounded right into his left ear, making him reel back from the lever. A long fingered hand with sharp claws grabbed his wrist, pale and bony, wisps of thin white hair growing from it. He turned just enough to see a monstrous face akin to a rat, naked aside from the wispy white hairs that didn't even hide the pale pink, wrinkled skin underneath. Bulging, milky-white eyes wide and staring blindly at her target. A nose twitching with whiskers, muzzle opened wide to show deadly sharp teeth, pointed incisors that would go for the throat._

  
_Another loud scream as the changed Granny Rags went in for the kill._

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------

  
     Corvo gasped, throwing the blankets he'd effectively wrapped himself in off and tumbled to the floor. He barely caught himself on the edge of the bed, feeling cold sweat drip off his brow, his hair sticking to his skin. Trying to steady to shaking hands as he looked around his dark, cold room. Confirming he was safe, despite his pounding heart and heavy breathing. The Serkonan covered his face with his hands, breathing steadily between his palms and wiped away the perspiration that soaked his skin, pushing his hair out of his face.

  
      _Another nightmare._

  
     One that was all too recent, but it gave him a break from his usual nightmares. The ones watching Jessamine die over and over; sometimes he came close to saving her, but it always ended the same. The nightmares of losing Emily, another knife, another life lost, his failure to protect her. Then that black-eyed bastard... Corvo released a shaky sigh, pushing the rest of the blankets off his body and getting out of bed. Usually he slept a mere four hours after every bad dream, unable to go back to sleep, but this time it was a full night's rest. A cloudy sky peeking between his curtains suggested bad weather, that it may rain today or just tease the fishermen who made a living off their bounty.

  
     Another soft sigh, rocking on his feet for a few moments in attempt to calm his nerves, he listened to the ambient sounds of the Tower. At least on this floor, Corvo could hear the very distant chatter of a few guards in the hallway, probably switching patrols, or just a conversation. He could hear footsteps further down the hall, a maid's harder shoes clicking against the tile. The wind outside disturbing the trees and the gulls calling out while they still flew, despite the coming storm. Just listening was enough to calm the Lord Protector down, and he stepped away from the window to get dressed for the day. He'd have to escort Emily to breakfast and then to her morning studies, assuming the young Empress didn't want to play before then. She always had this habit of Hide-and-Seek.

  
     A small smile formed on his lips. He couldn't stop her from doing that, and Callista would be in a right irritable mood with the young lady for being late to her studies. Callista was still her teacher, and though she couldn't quite fill the shoes of Jessamine, she was still somewhat of a mother figure to Emily. No one could replace the late Empress, but it helped her.

  
     And lately when he held the clockwork heart in his hands, there was a different warmth there. _She was pleased_.

  
     Pulling the blue coat on, running a hand through his messy excuse for hair, Corvo walked out of his room. He'd check on Emily, to make sure she was up or at least getting up. Since he woke up at a decent hour instead of the usual still-dark-outside early morning, the young Empress should at least be waking up.

  
     Walking down the hallway, stopping by her door, the Lord Protector rapped his knuckles against the solid oak door. Waiting while receiving no answer, he strained to listen for any sound inside the large room. Of course he could hear nothing, assuming she got up earlier than expected, she was still asleep, or she was playing a game. Any of those options were actually very likely.

  
     Pushing the door open just a bit, he peered into the dim lit room. The fireplace was the only thing going, keeping the room warm and cozy. The bed was empty, however, and he stepped through the threshold of the doorway. The room appeared empty, aside from the little polished table sitting in the corner where a ton of her stuffed toys were at, a few dirty clothes strewn across the floor suggesting they were from yesterday and the maids haven't been in just yet.

  
     A small shine caught his eye, and he immediately zoomed in on it. It was just under one of the chairs, and he crouched down to pick it up. A coin, 5 cents worth, polished and shined to catch the light of the dying fire. Immediately pocketing it, a kind of hoarding problem with shiny objects that he felt reluctant to give up whether or not they were worth something. Corvo definitely knew it was a recent problem of his, but the allure of such things were hard to resist.

  
     Again another faint glimmer he quickly picked up on, under the desk this time and the Lord Protector scooped that up like the first. Similar, another 5 cent coin. When he found a third, closer to the inside balcony, Corvo could tell this was Emily's doing. A form of teasing since she knew what he was.

  
      _Back in the Hound Pits Pub, during a night he didn't need to go out. Emily had found him further back in the attic that was his room, clothes stripped but otherwise a hulking beast. Feathers and wings, scaly arms with talons much bigger than her tiny hands. He had kept his mind then, a tamed bird just waiting out the full effects of his transformation._

  
_He had just about fled when she told him it was okay, that she thought this was cool. There was no fear, though there was caution._

  
_"Can you fly?" She had asked, his response was a shrug. Corvo hadn't tried._

  
     "Alright, Emily. Come on out, I know you're watching." The Serkonan said quietly, a small laugh laced in his voice while he stood up and glanced through the glass doors. She had crawled out from under the bed, grinning widely at her father.

  
     "Sorry Corvo, I couldn't resist," she said, straightening out her blouse. "It's funny."

  
     "Mhm. I'll end up keeping these, you know," Corvo stated simply, returning her grin, "Better take them away before they disappear."

  
     "I know where your little bird hoard is, no worries about that," Emily giggled. "We should probably get to breakfast. I heard the maids talking about pancakes!" His bird hoard? A bit of a confused response from the Lord Protector, and how she knew where it was. In his room, in a wooden box, under the bed.

  
     "Please don't tell Callista I was under the bed, she'll make a fuss." The young Empress said finally with a little smile. "That's the last thing I need."

  
     "I promise." Corvo replied, opening the door for her, and she walked on through. He followed closely behind while she chatted away, plans for the day, excited about pancakes - hoping there'd be blueberries or cherries if they were in season. He let her talk, listened mostly. Just like with her mother. The Kaldwins were a rather adventurous and chatty line, and he could only smile to himself with the fond memories. A sudden sound broke him from those memories, bringing him roughly back into reality when he heard a sudden flurry of footsteps; running. It came from the opposite end of the hallway, where he and Emily were heading towards the fairly empty dining room to receive her breakfast.

  
     A guard skidded around the corner, the sudden scent of fear and _blood_ hit Corvo like a brick wall, and upon closer inspection he could see there was red blossoming against the man's white shirt, turning the blue coat of his guard's coat a dark purple. Immediately, the Lord Protector was on high alert.

  
     "Trouble... In the Courtyard..." the man breathed. "Another sent for... Captain Curnow... take her Majesty to the safe room..." he reported. Though the injuries were serious, they weren't particularly life threatening. He must have ran from the Courtyard, and damn were there a lot of stairs. From the commotion, the guards who lingered in the hallway jogged towards them.

  
     "What's the matter?" a man with a white moustache asked. "Is that... _blood_?"  
"Creatures. Beasts... they're in the courtyard. Dozens of them," the injured man exhaled, wincing at the pain, "we got to get her Majesty up to... the safe room now. Right now." He motioned down the hallway, away from where he'd come from and towards the staircase leading up. Emily tugged on Corvo's coat; he could tell she was nervous, scared even.

  
     "Corvo?" She asked quietly and he placed a hand on top of her head.

  
     "Let’s go, Emily. Let's run, you know where the safe room is, right?" The Serkonan asked, looking down at her. She nodded, but he could tell she did not want to go there. They've kept Burrow's safe room because it had its uses – though it was usually used as a library and strategy room these days. The young Empress never liked it, reminding her of the man who planned her mother's death and essentially had her kidnapped. The man who ordered Corvo tortured for a crime he did not commit. He didn't blame Emily for wanting to avoid it all together.

  
     "I wouldn't tell you to go there if it wasn't a serious matter," Corvo murmured, crouching down to her level. "I'll be right behind you. It'll be easier to protect you up there." And if he couldn't keep these beasts from her, there was always a way out. Not cornered like a mouse being hunted by a cat.

  
     "Alright, Corvo. Keep up," she replied, running off, the Lord Protector and guardsmen following behind, even the injured one who intended to protect the young Lady from harm.

  
     It didn't take long to climb the stairs to the top of the Tower, and the moment he stepped through the threshold of the final door he heard a high-pitched screech that made he and Emily flinch, the others covering their ears. Corvo recognized that sound, reeling him back to the fight with the old witch down in the sewers. It made his heart race. Another creature like that? Up here? He shut his eyes for a moment and pressed on, he couldn't slip back into those foul memories.

  
     The Lord Protector took his folding blade from his belt, extending it to full length, and watched the walls for any movement. When he saw none, he pointed to various parts of the roof, looking back at the guards who had followed him up. Without a word, they fanned out, checking the pillars for anything that could pose a potential threat and Corvo herded Emily towards the center most building that crowned the Tower.

  
     "Stay close," He murmured, his free hand on her shoulder. "Always stay behind me, run when I tell you to," he instructed without looking at her.  
"Are they... Like you, Corvo?" She asked in a hushed whisper.

  
     "Possibly. But not as friendly, I imagine," the Serkonan replied. "And even then, I'm not very friendly." He could feel her fingers holding tight to his coat, reminding him that she was only a child. The closer they got to the center building, the safe room, the better Corvo felt but he never let his guard down at all. Nothing was truly safe with these creatures out prowling about.

  
     "Hurry, Corvo." Another voice sounded at the entryway, causing the Lord Protector to point his blade at Geoff who stood at the door. He put his hands up at chest level, palms out. "It's just me. Nothing's in here, hurry." He motioned and Corvo nodded, gesturing for the young Lady to follow Curnow.

  
     "You've heard?" The Serkonan asked.

  
     "I have. I was already up here when one of my men informed me. Not that it mattered much, I could hear the noise down there," the older man replied. "I figured you'd be on your way once the news reached you." Which meant Captain Curnow got the safe room's defenses up. That was good.

  
     "I'll be right behind you, Emily. Follow Captain Curn-" A loud screech cut him off, followed by a very human yell, a guardsman screamed in pain and Corvo pivoted on one heel. There beside one of the pillars, claws gripped the arm of a dying guard, was a beast with a black and white mask, short thick gray fur that got darker in the arms and legs. A werebadger. The guardsman coughed, raising a pistol with his free hand and fired it into the jaw of the distracted beast. She howled her pain and fury, flinging the man into the pillar with a sickening crunch.

  
     The bullet hadn't been made of silver.

  
     A series of gunshots were suddenly heard among the rooftop, the remaining guards who followed both Emily and Corvo up to the safe room were yelling, warnings or cries of pain. What sounded like a Tyvian bear roared loudly enough to shake the walls, another high pitched screech sounded up above and he saw something with well-rounded wings grab a guard with feathered claws and bring him into the air, only to drop him off the side of the Tower.

  
     "They don't stand a chance. Corvo, get inside." Curnow growled, keeping the door open just enough.

  
     "No. If they follow us in there, we'll be trapped. There's too many, if I can just thin out a few-"

  
     "That's _suicide_."

  
     "What _choice_ do we have, Geoff?" Corvo snapped back, "I won't let them hurt Emily. Burrows was a paranoid man, there's silver in there last I checked. Use it," He ordered. "Keep. Her. Safe." He pulled out his own pistol, well aware there was no silver bullet in the chamber, but it was no ordinary ammunition either. " _Go!_ "

  
     The door slammed shut with Emily screaming, " _Corvo, no!_ " Behind the reinforced doors. The Werebadger charged, jaws gaping and the Serkonan fired the gun, an incendiary bullet blasting into the beast's face, catching her on fire and she screamed, clawing at her muzzle in an attempt to put the destructive flames out. He had no time reload, he ran at the creature, taking the silver-lined blade and shoving it into the middle of her chest with the momentum he gained from the sprint. Twisting the blade, the screams cut off into a hiss, long claws ripping at his coat and shirt as he continued to twist the deadly weapon out of her body. Without stopping for a breath, Corvo continued down the center of the standing pillars, putting away his pistol and charging the beast who looked too similar to a large bear.

  
     The beast got on all fours and charged him and Corvo was ready to slide under and slice the belly of the beast, but he didn't see another Lycanthrope charge him from the side. A Werecoyote, smaller than the Werewolf variety, slammed into him, the beast's jaws biting into the steel gorget that protected his neck. The force was enough to knock the air out of the bodyguard, and he lost his sword, feeling the coyote try to tear him to shreds but the claws couldn't quite penetrate the armor under his shirt. That was the only thing that saved him right now, and he couldn't reach any of his other weapons.

  
     Shifting now would send him to his death, with it taking too long and too many witnesses, but what else could he do? His left arm prickled, where the Mark burned on the back of his hand. His fingers ached while the skin grew gray and scaly, claw talons pushing his normal finger nails out, leaving behind a bloody smear. A trick he learned when fighting that assassin's men.

  
     Corvo's changed hand tore through the coyote's side and she shrilled in pain, letting go just enough so he could kick the beast off him. He rolled back onto his shoulder and upright the moment he had no foreign weight on him, his left hand trembling from the ache he had to endure. With so much adrenaline coursing through his veins, he barely even felt it, but damn would he later. He glanced around for his sword, the most effective weapon against these creatures right now and noted that yes, it wasn't that far, a few meters to his right, but another beast stood in his way. A Werewolf this time, and with the coyote recovering from her injury and the Werebear advancing, the bodyguard was surrounded. Oh, of course he'd fight to the death to protect Emily, there was no doubt about it, but with these supernatural beings advancing on him, he knew there was no chance of survival, even if he got lucky and killed one or two.

  
     He bared his teeth, molars grinding, and he readied himself. The familiar hum of magic filled his ears and he felt a sudden pull in the air. _Twing, twing, twing_ , the Werewolf fell, legs twitching from the sudden death, with the coyote screeching again only to follow in suit with the wolf a moment later. The bear let out a deafening roar, followed by another series of _twings_ , and she too fell to the ground. Upon closer inspection, silver darts protruded out of the thick fur, following the spine until it hit the base of the skull. The same with the other beasts, though with less darts. Further off, Corvo saw the vapor-mask clad assassins, all with small crossbows in hand.

  
     A blessing or a curse? Corvo couldn't tell what was worse, honestly. The last time he'd seen these particularly clad men were when he woke up in the Flooded District all those months ago. Before then? In the same place, preventing him from protecting Jessamine and Emily. The Lord Protector didn't let his guard down.

  
     "A thank you would be appreciated." A Whaler in green grumbled, he held the bigger crossbow, a relic it seemed, and with a bigger bolt than the other darts; the man who killed the werewolf.

  
     "Stop standing around, Hanson. Scour the rest of the roof for more _Bestia Mutante_." The Whaler in the traditional navy blue uniform snapped. "Slim, go with him." The smaller of the three, in white and red, nodded, hooking arms with the taller assassin in green.

  
     "Really, Han. You had to be an ass, yeah?" She grumbled and they both disappeared with a _fwp_. That left him and the assassin in blue. They stared for a while, until the other man jerked his head towards the safe room.

  
     "It's still not safe." He advised quietly, then disappeared. Corvo realized what he meant, scooping up his bloodied sword and ran towards the safe room. He pushed the doors open, bursting into the safe room. A bird like screech sounded further up room, another what sounded like Emily's terrified yell. Fear gripped his heart, and he pounded up the stairs, blinking into the room the next moment. The flying beast was on the floor, a blade in its head. Geoff was on the ground, holding a bleeding side and another man pulled the sword from the skull. He shot the Wereowl in the head a second time with a silver dart from the crossbow on his wrist.

  
     Daud.

  
     With his blood pounding in his ears, Corvo charged the assassin, sword swing about wildly, like a whirlwind. The older Serkonan met each strike with his own blade, backing up while the Lord Protector pushed him back to the wall. Magic pulled the air and Daud disappeared, reappearing behind Corvo and swept his legs out from under the enraged bodyguard. In the next breath, he was pinned by the assassin in red, the changed arm under the weight of Daud's knee and his sword hand twisted painfully at his back. His retractable sword effectively disarmed.

 

     "A pleasure to meet you too, bodyguard." Daud breathed into his ear. "Calm down."

  
     " _You!_ I spared you and you return the favor by-"

  
     "Saving your young Empress."

  
     "What?"

  
     "You were busy with the ones outside, and I followed the winged _Bestia Mutante_ in here. She came through the window." He jerked his chin in the direction of the shattered glass and bent metal. "Your Guard Captain put up a good fight."

  
     Corvo turned his head enough to see the older Gristolian, bleeding but still alive. Geoff had pushed himself up, wincing from the pain his injuries caused.  
"It's... _Ah_... True, Corvo. The damned thing was too fast, I tried..." Curnow grunted.

  
     "And Emily?"

  
     "Just... Just a scratch, Corvo," the young Empress replied quietly, her voice shaking. There was a small scratch on her cheek, but otherwise she was fine. From where he could see, Corvo could tell she recognized Daud.

  
     "Let me up," The bodyguard growled.

  
     "Are you going to continue your attack?" Daud asked, though if he worried that the Lord Protector was going to kill him, he didn't show it.

  
     "No. Let me. Up," Corvo pressed, wrinkling his nose. After a moment longer, the discomfort in his shoulder loosened and the weight lifted off him. The younger Serkonan glared at Daud, then moved to Emily immediately, checking her over for further injury.

  
     "Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

  
     "Yes."

  
     "You sure?"

  
     "Yes, I'm sure." Emily, replied, her brown eyes glancing between Corvo, to Daud still standing there, to the corpse of the flying beast, and back to her father. "Are you okay?" She asked in return.

  
     "Just a scratch." He smiled a little, giving the young Empress a hug, acutely aware of the talons still present on his left hand. "Why are you here, Daud?" Corvo finally asked flatly, glancing back at the assassin, with obvious distrust.

  
     "Well that's a mystery, isn't it?" The Knife of Dunwall replied, and the Lord Protector shifted his weight, a coiled spring ready to attack given the chance. "I'm investigating why there are so many _Bestia Mutante_ in Dunwall. I always have eyes here, and when my men informed me a mass of Lycanthropes were gathering during the day, which is odd enough in itself, I had to investigate. I guess we arrived just in time." The master assassin sheathed his blade.

  
     "I guess you did," Corvo replied tensely. The air crackled with apprehension, the bodyguard standing up to face the man who killed the Lycanthrope and saved Emily. The man who murdered Jessamine.

  
     "Corvo," coughed Geoff, struggling to stand up, "I think... we’ve found our security solution," he said finally, leaning against the wall. Both Corvo and Daud stared at the Captain, both relatively surprised.

  
     "Yes, yes I know who this man is but... He killed that thing like it was a regular human. I... assume these men he talked about also do the same..."

  
     "Geoff, no. No, do you not realize _who_ this is?" The Lord Protector protested.

  
     "The Knife of Dunwall, Daud," Captain Curnow replied quietly. "Yes, I'm aware. But I trust this man more than I trust the Overseers."

  
     "But..."

  
     "Not to mention your hand," The older man added. Corvo stopped rigid, glancing down at his left hand and then back at the Captain. "They see that and they'll execute you," he breathed. Even against Emily's wishes. He could feel the girl's panic at that.

  
     "No they won't! I won't allow it," she protested.

  
     "Doesn't matter, your Majesty," the Captain replied quietly. "All in all, the Overseers are hunters."

  
     " _But_...!"

  
     "Emily, please," Corvo hushed, then glared at Daud. "And what's your opinion on this?" He prompted, standing in front of his daughter, as if shielding her from his answer. The assassin raised a brow, not backing down from Corvo's hard stare.

  
     "I’d give my life for her Majesty," he replied with a carefully measured voice, a palm out to the girl behind her bodyguard. "But that's her choice." Now all three looked at Emily, who stared at the Knife of Dunwall. The seconds felt like minutes, minutes to hours and she finally replied.

  
     "To prevent Corvo from being... Being hunted," her little jaw worked, molars grinding as if this was hard to swallow. "I'll... I'll allow it." There was no hiding her disdain for the assassin in red. Corvo and the Guard Captain looked to Daud now.

  
     "You protect the heart of the Empire," Geoff breathed, wincing again. "Do not make me regret my words.”

  
     "Nor mine," Corvo growled, an unsaid threat deep in his voice. With a hand to his chest, the Knife of Dunwall bowed.

  
     "My life and those of my men are at your disposal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins >:)  
> Special thanks to my friend Alice for proof reading my fic so far.


	4. Daud - Open Mind for a Different View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way thank you for all those nice comments ;v; i'm glad you all are enjoying my train wreck of a fic.

     It had been a few days since the beast raid on Dunwall Tower, and the young Empress was going about her days as usual - though with more caution in her step after he set foot in that safehouse. Her bodyguard, Corvo, skulking around with paranoia more befitting the late Hiram Burrows. There was no trust here, but could Daud blame them? Not at all. He did, after all, kill their Empress. However, there'd be no lies here, and that's all Daud could promise. Whether or not anyone would believe him remained up in the air. Right now, the retired assassin was integrating his remaining Whalers into the guard system. Though the regular guards were aware of them thanks to Captain Curnow, getting things to work seamlessly was proving to be a challenge.

     Of course, these kinds of changes didn’t come without difficulty. Daud expected that, and had spent the last few days discussing security with the recovering guard Captain and the Lord Protector whenever he had the time. Sokolov’s security technology is efficient and very dangerous, but even an Arc Pylon’s effect on werecreatures is minimal. Professional assassins who happen to practice some dark magic, use superior observing and tracking methods, and are very good at killing _Bestia Mutante_ was the better choice.

  
     The current issue, however, was keeping their presence hidden from the Overseers that seldom patrolled the Tower corridors, but were still an acute force that could prove to be trouble. Daud and his Whalers were still very much wanted, and despite the fact Emily had pardoned them didn't mean the zealots wouldn't still try to pursue them. A wild card, really.

  
     The Whalers may have exchanged the whaling uniform for that of a guardsman, but they kept their usual equipment handy. Those who had obvious tattoos weren't put in uniform, but remained vital as scouts and spies in the city, to keep watch and look for any Lycanthrope activity. Daud wanted to continue his investigation, but he couldn't when stuck figuring out a smooth integration, but at least he could still send people out to be his eyes and ears.

  
     Within a week, all his assassins who weren't too conspicuous had been successfully shuffled into the Tower Guard system, all possible infiltration holes were filled, a steady flow of information from his scouts out in Dunwall kept him on the inside and he'd created a careful web of stable informants and spies that bridged fact and rumors, shone lights on mysteries and street murders, and benefited the Tower. Captain Curnow had voiced his surprise about how impressed he was with Daud's work.

  
     It wasn't official, but Daud was working like a Spymaster.

  
     A touchy subject with her Majesty, given the previous one had usurped her and her mother's throne, and the retired assassin had no business trying to take the role. Still, if he wanted to do his job, he had to set everything up again. It wasn't hard getting back in touch with old contacts, and even sending a personal message out to Lizzy Stride. Though of course he hadn't gotten anything back from her, he had to wonder if someone tried to pull the rug out from under her again.

  
     Those curious assumptions were crushed the moment Daud heard yelling in the hallway, a crash and then followed by rude shouts. He pushed back some papers, a silent inquiry from the Guard Captain from across the table and the Serkonan shrugged. He stood and crossed the room to open the heavy wooden door, sticking his head out to look both up and down the corridor. In the center of one, with one of the porcelain flower vases broken on the floor and a guard unconscious, bleeding from the head while another three guards fought to control a lanky woman with tattooed skin and bare feet. She cursed at them with a mouth better fitting a sailor.

  
     "Get your _damned_ hands off me you hagfish lovin', dick eatin' little shit! I got someone to see, and you're wasting my precious time," Lizzy hissed, bucking up against the bigger body of the guard who had her arm twisted. If there weren't two other guards, she probably would have thrown the guy to the floor and done something worse. No, they were just starting to haul her backwards out of the hallway, grumbling mostly. From what Daud could hear, it sounded like “I don't get paid enough for this.”  
"What is going on?" Curnow asked. "Is this who I think it is?" He directed this question to one of the guards holding the Dead Eels gang leader.

  
     "Elizabeth Stride? We found her walking down the hallway. I'm surprised she made it this far given it's the second floor, y'know... Sir." The guard in question replied, and yelled suddenly when the mouthy thug bit into his hand, drawing blood. She was furious. She didn't even let go, even when the large man brought a fist sideways onto her head. It just made Lizzy bite in deeper.

  
     "Hey now," Daud said. "You deserve it for calling her Elizabeth. I've heard she's done much worse to those who've called her that. Let her go." Everyone stared at him as if he grew a second head, but his expression was deadpan.

  
     "Sir?"

  
     "You heard me. Let her go," the retired assassin prompted yet again, patience strained at this point. He could feel the Captain's eyes burn into him, and he looked over to meet his gaze steadily.

  
     "She's a friend. I invited her over." He looked to Lizzy now. "You could have sent a reply before coming here. Then at least I could have informed everyone an escaped convict was going to walk the Tower's floor." Daud quirked up an eyebrow, watching as she let go of the man's hand and grinned, sharp teeth bloody.

  
     "Throwin' my best old man a surprise," she replied with a wink. The Serkonan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to work away a sudden headache that just sprung up. She barked a self-satisfied laugh. "Now can you tell these Tower dogs to let go of me, I think I’ve lost feeling in my arms."

  
     "Don't kill any guards, then." Daud looked to Geoff, who in turn gave a resigned sigh and nodded to the guardsmen who still held her.

  
     "You heard him. Please keep her from... Getting into any more trouble," the Captain stated, in a tone that clearly stated he didn't want to deal with this headache.  
"Sir, what about Collin?" The man who still had Lizzy's arm twisted asked.

  
     "Take him to the infirmary. I doubt Sokolov is in today, but the Tower's nurses are here. A bump on the head probably won't kill him." Curnow looked to the other guard who had the bleeding hand. "You go with him." With that, they released the Dead Eels leader, who rubbed her numb arms carefully but otherwise had a smug smirk spreading across her scarred lips. The three who apprehended her grumbled again, picking up their unconscious comrade and starting off. The porcelain vase would be cleaned up by the maids who were already called for. Too bad about the flowers.

  
     "So, you’re in Dunwall Tower, eh?" Lizzy inquired, catching the old Serkonan's attention while he watched the Captain return to the office.

  
     "Yeah," he replied a little absently, looking up the corridor where the guards were still hauling the unconscious Collin to the infirmary, noting just a few more guards standing around a door. Daud suspected Corvo and Emily were in that room, no doubt the little girl working on her lessons. He felt the back of his left hand burn, the subtle thrum of magic vibrating in his ears. He blinked and the world turned blue, anything with a life-force lit up yellow, seeing the guardsmen who left walking down the stairs, still dragging Collin.

  
     "You really knocked him out," Daud said suddenly, actually catching his rowdy friend off guards. "I wouldn't be surprised if he had a concussion."

  
     "What... Oh. Yeah, that asshole got a little too touchy," the gang leader snorted.

  
     "You mean he grabbed your arm to take you into custody."

  
     "Yeah, _touchy_."

  
     Daud sighed, looking towards the door where another couple of guards were clustered and sure enough he saw a few more bodies inside the room he suggested Corvo and Emily were in. The yellow silhouette of the young lady sitting at a desk, her legs kicking absently under the table while another lady sat across from her, a book in hand and gesturing, suggesting that she was instructing the Empress. Another lady stood beside the table, a maid perhaps and next to the door was the familiar silhouette of the bodyguard. He was shifting his weight to one foot, arms folded across his chest, though his fingers moved nervously. What had him so nervous? The commotion just a short few moments ago? The way his shoulders slumped suggested exhaustion, but he didn't lean against a wall. Still alert, ready to jump to his daughter's aid. There was no threat right now, well except for the assumed threat of Daud.

  
     "Distracted? You've been starin' at that door for quite a long time." Lizzy suddenly caught his attention; he blinked, and the world was brought back into color, the sound of magic and the burning sensation dissipated immediately. She had a sly grin on her face, suggesting something silently.

  
     "What? What's with that look?" Daud asked, furrowing his brow.

  
     "Daydreaming? I didn't take you the sort of guy who had fantasies. So, who is she?" The Morley thug prompted.

  
     "What are you going on about? I don't have fantasies. Those are suited for children and artists, I imagine," he grumbled, keeping eye contact with Lizzy. "And there is no _she_."

  
     "He then. It's okay if you prefer the company of men, I sometimes prefer company with ladies. Your ex second-in-command was a fine lady. Strong, agile, pretty-"  
"So you have fantasies about Lurk," the Serkonan said with a deadpan voice.

  
     "You bet. Who do you think smuggled her outta Dunwall? We had a nice chat." Lizzy laughed, one hand on her hip. Daud just sighed, willing away the headache that was just pulsing at his temples.

  
     "Alright, let's just get out of hallway. I'm sure we have eavesdroppers about. The last thing I need are rumors you're sprouting." He replied, gesturing down the hall away from all the guards who were clustered around the other end. She needed no more prompting, and started away from the shattered porcelain on the ground.

  
     "So you come back to Dunwall and get yourself settled in the Tower. What happened to lookin' me up? I could use a guy like you in my gang." She started while she followed him to the other end of the corridor and up some stairs.

  
     "I did look you up." Daud replied, pushing a reinforced door open that deep grooves in it, probably from the werebear that stormed the place.

  
     "Bullshit."

  
     "Why do you think you're here? Even though I didn't explicitly invite you." Outsider's eyes, did he hate stairs.

  
     "So, you planning on joining up with the Dead Eels?" she asked.

  
     "Not at all. Could use your help though. I don't have many of my people out in the City since most of them are here. I'm only back in Dunwall because of a mystery that still eludes me," the retired assassin explained. "That mystery led me here when some werebeasts attacked the Tower."

  
     "Ooh. I've heard about that. So it wasn't just a rumor then? Been hearin' that shit on the streets for a couple weeks now," the thug leader replied, reaching the top of the stairs with the older Serkonan and they were on the roof of the building. Evidence of the invasion was still visible on the stone floors.

  
     "I wasn't. I have a feeling I know what the mystery involves. Keep an ear out for anything about the werebeasts, especially the name Delilah."

  
     "Delilah? Isn't that the witch you were tracking down last year?"

  
     "The same. I fear I didn't end her reign of terror. But I can't be certain." Daud stared out over the roof towards the sea, whaling ships pulling into the river to haul in their income. Seagulls and other birds crying out over the wind, a steady breeze where the sky was a pale blue and wispy clouds drifted lazily on the wind. Further off on the horizon, billowing black clouds gathered, suggesting rain for wherever they happened to roam, but those wind currents took them somewhere else. The air was damp, but not cold at all. The Month of Songs was definitely a good month this year.

  
     "Yeah, I can keep an ear out. It'll cost you, though." Lizzy grinned, rubbing her fingers together on one hand in front of him. Daud sighed, pulling a cigarette out from one of the pouches and lit it up with a match from a fancy tinderbox. He took a long drag and exhaled through his nose, white smoke streaming and billowing.

  
     "Fine. How much?" the Serkonan asked, leaning on his heels.

  
     "No coin, just a few good drinks. And also tell me who you’re eyeballin'," she teased, grinning sharply at him. This time Daud groaned, staring up at the pale blue sky.

  
     "There is no one! _By the Void_ , Lizzy." But of course she laughed anyway.

  
\--------------------------------------------------------------

  
     It was going to be a full moon tonight, naturally Daud figured he'd stay in even though he was in no immediate threat of what the moon could do to a Lycanthrope. He'd already changed earlier that month and being one of the marked, there was always that boon that you weren't at the mercy of the moon. Still, it made his pupils glow when the light hit them in a dim environment. It was best just to avoid everyone around this time, and since Lizzy stayed the whole day just discussing what she heard on the street since he was gone in Serkonos, enjoying expensive whiskey Daud had found in the kitchen downstairs. But while the sun began to set and the moon started to rise, it was time to go. Lucky for her that the _Undine_ was docked nearby, otherwise how else would she get back to Draper’s Ward? Or wherever she and the Dead Eels set up shop at.

  
     And being the more responsible of the two, Daud was going to make sure she got to her boat without a problem. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to carry her out of Dunwall Tower like he did back when he broke her out of Coldridge.

  
     The two walked down the fairly quiet hallway, a few guardsmen walking about, a couple Daud knew to be his own. Those particular ones paused to acknowledge the retired assassin and continue on, but mostly this floor were his Whalers. Not as curious as it should be, good that they were down on this floor when a full moon had risen.

  
     "Been fun up here," Lizzy suddenly said, drawing him back from his musings. "Should visit again."

  
     "Maybe next time warn me ahead of time, and try not to incapacitate the authority around here." Turned out the man named Collin just had a bloody bump on his head. "Or bite them." The Serkonan sighed.

  
     "Tell them not to use ' _Elizabeth_ ' then. Fuckin' hate that name," she grumbled. "But fine, I can send you a pretty note with fancy writing and a small spritz of perfume if you like."

  
     "Now you're just teasing me." Daud rolled his eyes, running a gloved hand through his hair.

  
     "I'll make sure to add some finger bones along with it." An amused smirk told him she was getting a kick out of his reaction.

  
     "I’d rather you didn’t," he replied, and she laughed.

  
     A high pitched scream cut her good natured chuckle off and put them both on alert, as well as the current security measures still patrolling these halls. Everyone drew a sword and Daud quickly moved towards where he heard the scream; Emily's room.

  
     "Corvo! Corvo no it's me! Emily!" That was the young Empress's distressed voice, elevating in pitch the more anxious she got. That was followed by a soft hiss, air escaping something hard. He didn't even look at the gang leader who followed closely behind him when he kicked the hard wooden doors open. A huge hulking creature swung on them immediately, Daud barely reacting in time to save him from those deadly efficient talons that tore are his coat and scraped against the file end of his sword. A loud clap as a razor sharp beak snapped near his face, but not finding purchase. He tried and tried again to tear at the retired assassin's flesh, to rip through skin, muscles and sinew all at once.

  
     "Holy _shit_!" The next thing Daud knew, the feathered beast screeched, backing off in the room, side bloody. Lizzy had stabbed it, though the injury would be fatal to a normal person, it wouldn't slow the Lycanthrope down in the slightest. By now, the air buzzed with magic when his assassins transversaled into the room, the more effective and deadly weapons lined in silver pointing at the beast.

  
     " _No_! No don't hurt him!" Emily yelled from across the room, behind the desk she'd been standing behind. "It's Corvo, _please_!" Not once did the Whalers put their weapons down, even if it was the Lord Protector, he was completely out of control. The razor beak parted to release air, a hiss sliding out. Crimson dripped to the floor, then slowed as the non-silver inflicted injury sealed. The wings on the creature's back unfolded, an extra pair of limbs to worry about, with enough force to crush bone. He positioned himself into a pounce, sharp talons ready to shred skin. This was a dangerous monster, by all means capable of taking down perhaps the whole tower's worth of men. But Daud had killed the flying rare beasts before.

  
     "Sir?" One Whaler prompted, it was Thomas. "What are your orders?" He didn't once take his eyes off the predator before them, who was sweeping a sidelong glance around the circle of weapons pointed right at him. So it wasn't completely driven on instinct, a calculating beast even if it looked like Corvo wasn't even in charge of his own changed form.

  
     "Slow him down." Daud replied steadily, exhaling through his teeth. "We can't kill him."

  
     "What?! You can't be serious." That was Lizzy Stride now. "Look at that monster. You tellin' me you can't kill that?"

  
     "We can, but we won't. I got to get him out of here though." He hissed, not looking at the gang leader. "Where's your boat?"

  
     "Oh no. Ooooh, no you're not takin' that thing on the _Undine_." She protested.

  
     "The hold of your ship can hold him until he changes back." The Serkonan shot back, making the mistake of glancing at the thug. That was all Corvo needed, and the raven dived forward, claws out again at the distracted retired assassin. The air buzzed with magic again when the Whalers suddenly transversaled to parry the feathered beasts attack, claws sliding loudly against silver and steel, the scaly flesh being bitten into by the sharp edges of the blades, blood dripping on the floor.

  
     "Leave him alone!" There was no end to Emily's shrilling protests, but it was better to get her out of here.

  
     "Thomas, please get Emily out of here," Daud snapped, sliding under the whirlwind that was Corvo's claws as he took on the entire squad that knew how to kill Lycanthropes. He would have been dead by now if it weren't for Daud's orders not to. The Serkonan had to act fast to avoid any casualties, knowing it was a matter of time before one of them slipped up and Corvo gained his bloody prize. Thomas disappeared the moment the raven's claws lashed out, but found nothing but air, he screeched his frustration, turning on another Whaler who knocked the hilt of his sword into the base of the beak. The creature reared back, maneuvering his wings into one powerful beat, enough to stir up wind to actually knock back a woman with black hair into a larger man he caught her then disappeared with her when Corvo surged forward, the razor beak clapping loudly from missed opportunity.

  
     He was getting furious.

  
     The little girl screamed again, demanding Thomas let her go. Without another word, the dark-skinned man disappeared with her, leaving the room strangely quiet. There was a good reason why this floor was mostly made up with his men, at least the other guards wouldn't get in the way.

  
     "Lizzy, get ready," Daud barked, slamming his sword into its sheathe and running at Corvo full sprint. The wereraven spun around, ready to take on its new adversary, rearing back both taloned hands for a viscous attack, but again they found nothing but air when the older Serkonan Blinked, and wrapped an arm around the thick, feathered neck. There was no possible way of choking out a Lycanthrope, but with how he was situated, the raven couldn't quite get a hold of him.

  
     Oh but did he _try_. Flailing and tossing, claws reaching back but the added muscle mass preventing him from gaining any purchase. All Corvo managed to do was claw up Daud's forearm. Wings moved to try and throw him, but flat against the spine, they only flapped in a fury of feathers and bone breaking power.

  
     "Lizzy, now!" Daud yelled, and for a moment, the gang leader hesitated, putting her sword away and dived enough to wrap her thinner arms around the Serkonan's waist. In the next moment, they disappeared.

  
\--------------------------------------------------------------

  
     It wasn't something they anticipated at all, working up to get Dunwall Tower safe from _Bestia Mutante_ , they didn't expect Corvo to lose control of his changed form. Lucky for them, Lizzy had a hold of an interrogation chair in the belly of her boat, something she'd been hauling around to dispose of. Not to say some of the Dead Eels had fun with it, throwing in a Hatter or some other gang member to just torment or get at each other for some weird debt. Stride was getting tired of the misuse, but it proved useful to hold a screeching wereraven in once they managed to actually get him wrangled into the chair. The price was a dead gang member by the name of Snake Eyes.

  
     It held all four original limbs, but the wings still proved to be a challenge. In the end, Daud opted to just tie them down and if he ended up damaging them, it didn't matter in the long run since they were just temporary limbs. Four hours of screeching down in the hull, the Dead Eels leader moving the boat away so the noise wouldn't attract unwanted attention. After the constant noise did the wereraven quiet down. Void Vision proved useful in watching the still changed silhouette staying still in the dark, assuming the minimal stimulation calmed the wild beast down. With that, Daud told Lizzy to keep things sealed, the moon would set soon and the initial danger would be over. He made to leave for the Tower, to make sure Emily wasn't doing anything stupid due to not realizing the danger she was recently in.

  
     And to assure Corvo remained unharmed.

  
     The Tower was on high alert by now, the first visit to Captain Curnow to explain the situation he was more likely to understand. So he convinced the guardsmen there was no danger presently, a story to be made up for the noises they heard earlier; Another beast had entered the Tower on a full moon, the specialized guards and Corvo Attano managed to get rid of it. Her majesty was just ruffled by the experience. A believable story, though there were holes. It was a matter of convincing Emily now.

  
     She wanted none of it. But in the end she had settled down enough not to have Daud and his men executed with the promise that Corvo would be returned in the morning. Her face puffy, a stubborn chin jutted out, nose and eyes red from crying. Her big brown eyes held distrust and hate for Daud, but he understood.

  
     Why trust the word of a man who killed her mother?

  
     By the time the retired assassin returned to the _Undine_ , Corvo had changed back. Ash littered the floor around the interrogation chair, as did the ropes that bound wings no longer there. Scraps of his clothing hung loosely off his body that still bore injuries from last night. He was slumped over, passed out, his breathing shallow. It wasn’t a cause for concern; the amount of energy burned from a forced transformation had that effect.

  
     Daud moved to unshackle the younger Serkonan, since the chair served its purpose and was no longer needed. He barely got one leg unbound when the Lord Protector began to stir. Breathing hitched and the man jerked in his remaining bindings, his green eyes were wide; a blind fear. He strained against the shackles around his wrists, looking around the room as if expecting something, his breathing quickened, heavy and labored as if trying to choke down fear, a panic attack. Corvo didn't see the belly of the Undine, he saw the torture chamber where he suffered for six months after Daud’s crime.

  
     "Corvo. Corvo, look at me." Daud snapped his fingers in front of the bodyguard's face. "This isn't Coldridge, this isn't a torture chamber. Corvo." Finally he got those eyes on him, wide, the man inhaling and exhaling through clenched teeth. "You're fine. You're okay. I'm getting you out of these right now. Try to steady your breathing," he spoke slowly, his voice low. Yelling wouldn't help. He worked on a wrist this time, aware of the younger man's eyes were still on him. Once the cuff loosened enough, Corvo yanked his arm out like it was burned, struggling to work one handed on the other cuff. The retired assassin worked on that one immediately, gently patting the other hand away. He yanked that one out too.

  
     "Where am I? What am I doing in this... This chair? Why are you here?" An accusation. Daud raised an eyebrow, crouching down to get his remaining leg unbound.  
"You don't remember?" He asked.

  
     "Remember what?" Corvo countered, eyebrows knitted, his expression a mask of distrust and confusion. Anxiety remained, but it was controlled now. The older Serkonan gestured to the ash on the floor, to the bodyguard's tattered remains of his clothing. Corvo just stared.

  
     "When was the last time you shifted?" The retired assassin finally asked, standing up and stepping back to allow the Lord Protector to stand up if he wished to. He doubted that he could actually do such a simple task. He remained in the chair, staring blanking at the floor, his eyebrows furrowed, thinking.

  
     "Several months ago," he replied finally.

  
     "You changed last night and tried to attack Emily." Daud's deadpan voice didn't sugarcoat how serious this situation was.

  
     "Wh... What?" Corvo's voice was a disbelieving whisper. Again, the older Serkonan gestured to him and watched as the bodyguard took in everything once more. The ash were the remains of his feathers when changed back into a human. Coarser ash came from bone and skin from temporary limbs, talons and the beak.

  
     "You didn't hurt her though, we got her away in time. She's... mad that we did, but other than throwing a royal fit, she's fine," he finally explained. "Not a mark on her." He couldn't quite read Corvo's expression now, his hair getting in the way. The younger man pulling at the shreds of clothing, rubbing red lines where non-silver injuries were made. He tried to get up, arms trembling from the strain as he tried to push himself away from the chair and he couldn't quite do it. He fell back against the chair, slouching down and putting his hands to his face.

  
     He was upset. Daud could tell with his shoulders trembling, his hands shaking, his head down. He didn't hear anything though, and when the other Serkonan brought his hands away, sure his nose was red but no tears were evident. Disappointment, self-loathing, disbelief. That's what showed in his eyes.

  
     "The black-eyed Bastard doesn't like it when his marked people aren't interesting. You keep your mind when you shift, sure, but you have to shift on a monthly basis. When you don't, you'll be forced to, and you don't retain your mind. Your bestial side is unleashed in full force. You simply cannot fight it. Terms of service I imagine. I know. I've had it happen to me. Lycanthropy is still a curse, even if you can control it," the retired assassin explained. "There's no arguing about it. I'm surprised you went as long as you did. Truly remarkable." But it explained the anxious exhaustion he saw in the bodyguard earlier that day.

  
     Corvo didn't reply, he just stared. He heard him though, with how his eyes flicked up at least once.

  
     "You won't be an unpredictable danger if you just make it a habit. I can help you with it." Daud offered a hand out to him. "The curse can be a blessing once managed."  
"I never asked for this," Corvo whispered, ignoring the other man's hand. "I never asked for this mark. I never asked for this curse." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face. "Now I've gone and made myself a danger to her... I swear... I swear I can hear Him laughing."

  
     Daud paused, head tilted to the side just a bit. He pitied him, but didn't show it. It was his fault the Lord Protector was like this now. While the Outsider seethed at him for making predictable moves and trying to change his ways by spilling less blood, while praising Delilah to be a very talented Witch, Daud could only guess what whispers he spoke in Corvo's ear. A man who barely even used the mark. Mostly flesh and steel. Now a furious winged beast.

  
     "Believe me. Some of use wish we hadn't caught his attention either." His hand still held out, and Corvo reluctantly took it. "You used up a lot of energy last night. Don't be surprised if you can't walk properly for a while. Getting you something to eat will help fix that." He pulled the other man up from the chair, shouldering his weight. The younger Serkonan only grunted in reply, his legs trembling from the weight. Carefully, the two navigated towards and up the staircase and into the pale sunlight. Daud felt the other man wince, the sun probably hurting his eyes.

  
     "So big bird finally started bein' more human, huh?" Lizzy called down from the helm of the boat, leaning over the railing a bit. "I hope you're happy for killin' old Snake Eyes." Corvo gave the retired assassin a confused look, a mix of anxiety again.

  
     "I killed someone?" he asked hoarsely.

  
     "When we were trying to get you confined so you wouldn't go on a murderous rampage, yes," Daud replied steadily, moving him to sit on a crate.

  
     "Don't look so glum. I didn't care for Snake Eyes honestly. I was gonna toss his ass in the river for the hagfish if I caught him harassing a girl again. The guy was a little shit," The Dead Eels leader said as she walked down the stairs. "So yeah. There's that."

  
     "What did I do last night?" Corvo asked, an exhausted desperation lacing his voice. The older Serkonan looked back at Stride, an eyebrow raised.  
"Did you bring any kind of rations on this boat?" He asked her.

  
     "Yeah, I suppose. Sometimes you don't know when you're gonna stay on the river. Want me to bring something up?" The thug replied, shoving her thumb behind her back where he and the bodyguard just came from.

  
     "Yeah. A shirt too if you have any. If not, it's not real issue." He added. Lizzy of course just gave him a sly smirk and a fake bow.

  
     "Anything else, _m'lord_?" She inquired, a mocking tone. Daud just sighed, folding his arms and stared until she gave a self-satisfied giggle and left.  
"No fun, Daud," The Morley thug laughed down into the hull of the _Undine_.

  
     "I was taking her back to this boat when I heard Emily scream. We kicked the door down and you attacked us in a changed form. Aside from the death of this gang member and you tearing up my arm." He pulled a stained sleeve down to show red lines crisscrossing across his dusky skin, some were just too deep to seal up and had scabbed over. "The Tower was on high alert. The Guard Captain and I fabricated a story to keep the Overseers off your trail and as I said before, Emily is simply very upset. She doesn't believe me when I say you'll come back unharmed."

  
     Corvo just stared at his hands that had finally stopped trembling. The boat rocked on the river and the gulls cried out, a fish jumped out of water to catch a passing by bug, making a loud splash. The Lord Protector remained silent for awhile.

  
     "Thank you," he finally said quietly, looking back up at Daud. "Thank you for saving her from... From _me_." The relief, no matter how misplaced, was genuine.

  
     "You're not as much of a danger to her as you think you are, Corvo. I can help you with managing transformations, if you'll let me." Another offer. He watched the other man look back down at his hands, then up at the retired assassin again.

  
     "You think it'll work then?" He asked, skeptical but Daud understood the reasoning. He was supposed to protect Emily, not be a hazard to her.

  
     "I know it'll work. Twenty something years I've been at this." The older Serkonan smiled. "Once a month usually does the trick, but in your case we'll do every two weeks. Is that fine?" He tilted his head. Corvo nodded, a slow blink. It wasn’t entirely trust, but it was a start. Mending bridges was something the retired assassin wanted to do while he was here, and if it didn't work out well...

  
     "Hope you like whale meat," said Lizzy, bringing him back from his musings yet again. "I'm not too partial on the shit, but I heard it's got a lot of calories." She was grinning, a sly grin moreso directed at Daud. She sat the tray down next to Corvo, not the most appetizing breakfast compared to what he'd seen up in the Tower. The younger Serkonan didn't have a weak stomach by all means and just worked on the breakfast slowly.

  
     "Oh yeah, and I found this shirt. Don't think it's your style, Mr. Fancy Bodyguard. But I'm sure it'll stop Daud from ogling your body." They both just stared at her, Daud a little more horrified by her assumption and she cackled, punching him in the arm.

  
     "I'm just yankin' your tails! Shit, here's your shirt." She chuckled, her grin was still as wide as ever and walked away. Daud stared after her, scowling and the Lord Protector looking up at him, an inquiring eyebrow arching up.

  
     "Ignore her," the older man grumbled, pulling out an unfinished cigar to light up. "When you're able, we'll take you back up to the Tower."

  
     Corvo just snorted, a very subdued smile tugging at his lips and he went back to finishing his meal.


	5. Corvo - Drop on By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH sorry for the late chapter! But we're on track now!!

 

     It's been a few months since the incident and Corvo had kept it under wraps, going out at least twice a week to make sure he had complete control. He nearly expected Daud to accompany him, but the former assassin wasn't too fond of the more primal side of him. He didn't blame him, honestly. For the past month since returning to the Tower, the Lord Protector had been apologizing to Emily for the attack, non-stop despite the young Empress continuously forgiving him, only glad he was fine.

  
     Though that didn't stop the side long glares in Daud's direction.

  
     The first time Corvo stepped outside as a wereraven since the conspiracy not so long ago, it was at the top of the Tower, the warmer winds from the south ruffling ebony feathers. Daud was with him that time, wolfish in all aspects and almost looking as flea bitten as the mange ridden wolfhounds that were sometimes found on the streets. As fully feathered as Corvo was, he expected the same from the other man, but it turned out each variety of were-beast were different in form. It was also the first time he'd seen the werewolf in full transformation.

  
     The top of Dunwall Tower was big enough to roam safely without the Abbey's scrutiny threatening them, while guards wandered at the top, Daud had made sure his men were the ones patrolling. At least they didn't have to sneak. For a while, Corvo followed the werewolf as they slowly circled the top floors, talons clicking across tile and stone. More than once the Lord Protector caught Daud staring, behind those wolfish eyes he couldn't tell whether it was interest or amusement. His feathers ruffled with unease, bothered by the stares but they were short lived and they continued on their way. It was surprising to have such clarity while he lumbered around as a beast, his wings pressed firmly against his wide back, but the thought was there. Such a wide open area, the winds were warm and in his favor, instinct driving through his chest like a spear told him to jump and spread his wings. To fly. Corvo's wings unfolded, stretching out full length, ink black feathers unfurled and made them look both terrifying and beautiful.

  
     Corvo didn't realize he was at the edge until he opened his eyes, staring down into the courtyard where his sharp vision could see tiny guards pick their way along the walls as they patrolled. The wereraven tucked his wings against his back and quickly retreated from the ledge. Head hunched down, he caught Daud staring again, but this time his eyes asked a question.

  
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     "Why didn't you do it?" The question caught the Lord Protector's attention, the muscles in his back twitching on their own accord, pain evident as the remaining bones and sinew pushed back into place. Laying down didn't help, putting pressure on his aching shoulders against the hard ground he had to wonder if a bed would have been better. A sofa perhaps? But that meant it would be a lot more difficult to remove the mess left behind from the shift back into a human. Corvo didn't like it, being completely conscious during the event where he felt like clawing his own skin off, ripping feathers out by a handful and scrambling to yank off his wings. The Serkonan couldn't reach his wings of course, they fell off on their own, turning to dust on the ground. By the end of it, Corvo felt like a beached whale, unable to breathe against his own weight and unable to move. He half expected Daud to leave him alone when he felt the change come on faster than it did during the transformation into a beast.

  
     He was half expecting Daud to suffer the same side effects as well. Looking at the former assassin, it didn’t seem like it. Corvo also expected amusement which would have fueled his resentment towards the older man for making him go through this, but as he peered through the strands of damp hair that hung in front of his face, all he could see was understanding pity.

  
     "What do you mean?" the Lord Protector finally replied, his voice quiet but thankfully steady. He grabbed the shirt he set aside for this, pulling it on and loosely buttoning it. Morning was approaching and he was tired, but he didn't have the luxury of going to bed.

  
     "Jump," Daud stated, the way he said it so matter-of-factly made Corvo bristle and his head shot up. A mistake since pain shot through him like electricity and he flinched, his hand coming up to soothe his pounding temples. The other Serkonan must have caught that furious reaction, his hands up, palms out. "I meant flying, Corvo."

  
     "Flying?" he inquired quietly, squinting at the other man cautiously. "I cannot fly, Daud."

  
     Of course the former assassin hummed, running a bare hand through disheveled hair to try and get it back into some semblance of order. He remained leaning against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered the bodyguard.

  
     "You can fly. Your wings are big enough to carry you and a fairly large load if you wanted to."

  
     "No, you don’t understand. I have not tried flying." Corvo said quickly, his eyebrows knitted together as he gave the older man a steady stare. "I don’t care to try."

  
     "You should. Flying is a very useful skill. Especially since you've mastered partial transformations early on. I'm sure if you put your mind to it you could grow a pair of wings without having to completely turn. With how black they are, you'll be able to fly the night sky without many people seeing you. They might think you're just a bird." The smirk playing across his thin lips suggested there was irony behind it, given Corvo's name. Seeing the unamused glare the Lord Protector gave him, Daud shrugged, looking down at the ash riddled floor.

  
     "Your choice, really," the former assassin stated simply, pushing himself off the door frame and adjusting the collar of his shirt. Before he left, he looked back at Corvo who still struggled with the after effects of the transformation back while fully aware, his body still trembled from exhaustion and pain.

  
     "You may not want to but I advise you eat a big breakfast. You'll feel better after that. I promise." Then he left. Corvo quietly scoffed, his shaking hands reworking the buttons back into order on his shirt, playing with the hem on the sleeve. Breakfast? Sure, if his stomach would stop doing flips, threatening to reject whatever was in there, he couldn't even think about food without feeling sick. Still, the thought of flying remained at the back of his mind while he yanked on his pants and carefully stood up.

     Interestingly enough, he felt like he was floating rather than in pain and it came to him that his body was quickly repairing itself against the damage and stress associated with turning. Trauma was receding and he could feel it.

  
     Of course the exhaustion remained and it was tempting to just go to bed and sleep it off like a bad hangover. He couldn't do that though, he had a job and perhaps taking Daud's advice wasn't so bad after all.

  
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     It was no surprise that Corvo found himself at the top of Dunwall Tower again, without Daud this time, not quite completely turned. The older man’s words just stuck with him, even a month later and he found that he couldn't shake them. While he watched over Emily, helping her deal with nobles from all over the Isles, staring down those who thought they can take advantage of the young Empress simply because of her age, those thoughts just grew quietly. Which is why the Lord Protector found himself at the very top of the Tower, a soft wind disturbing his hair and the dark feathers adorning a pair of wings he had to slouch to accommodate.

  
     They were heavy, like two large bags of sand hanging off his back and he figured maybe turning completely would have been a better than climbing the entire height of Dunwall Tower lugging the pair of wings on him. He thought about flying up here, but sneaking around from his room as it were without guards seeing him was a very difficult task, he barely made it outside, let alone the courtyard. Why try flying up when you could fly down?

  
     Carefully, Corvo unfolded his wings, crouching down at the edge of the roof. He could see the various lights dotting the city, he could see where the Hound Pits Pub was. Perhaps if this went well, he could soar across Wrenhaven and visit Samuel. It had been awhile since he had, the old man often came to the Tower but the steep climb didn't do his joints any mercy. The warm winds rustled the down and he stretched them to full length.

  
     The Serkonan felt the excitement in his chest, like the primal side was looking forward to this, the freedom, the skies. One breath, and he pushed off the ledge and jumped. His wings spread out, catching the wind, not expecting the draft to push him back like a kite. He started to glide down, a steady descent he felt was satisfying for someone who had never flown before. The journey down was swift, however and the Lord Protector didn't want this to end so soon. A little hesitant, he beat his wings in attempt to rise, but that's when it went wrong. He lost the stability he had gained and the feeling of falling dropped into his gut, clawing the air as he struggled to glide again. His wings flapped uselessly as they tried to gain purchase, only furthering his distance until he collided into a tree with a sickening thud and kept going, a wing got snagged in a gate and snapped, feathers tearing off along with it.

  
     Corvo finally crash landed, sliding along the dirt and gravel, laying to rest by the wall. He couldn't breathe, struggling to pull air into his lung while he tried to recover. He hit the tree fairly hard and he could feel the break in his collarbone, in his shoulder and arm. His wings were a tattered mess, feathers torn and bloody, one even hanging from muscle as the bone was completely severed. The pain was unbearable, his eyes clamped tightly shut until he finally managed a stuttering breath. There was a low keening, a shaking, bloody hand finding its way to gingerly touch the broken and bruised shoulder, carefully probing where the break formed. He couldn't quite find it. He tried to pull his body into a ball so he could push himself up and limp back into the Tower. Trying to find a way in just didn't register to the Lord Protector, the pain clouded his mind. Right now, all he wanted to do was to lay down.

  
     Before he could do anything, the quiet thrum of magic broke through the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The sound happened twice more, making the back of his hand burn but that was just a tickle compared to everything else. In Corvo's tunnel vision, all he saw was a pair of boots while teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. He heard voices, some sounded familiar but at this point it was distant. Before he let the darkness consume him, he felt a pair of hands touch him, picking him up with extra care and in the next moment when reality became distorted, Corvo fell unconscious.

  
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     The air was comfortably warm if a little thick with the smell of strong medicine, even if it burned his sinuses. The room was a dull amber, probably from the fireplace or the dull light as if it were still dark outside. He barely felt what was under him, in fact he still had that floating sensation and he had the sinking suspicion he was dragged back into the Void, but it didn't feel eerily empty and foreboding. He didn't feel like he was being watched and chilled to the bone. Corvo peered through his eyelashes, everything unfocused and blurred, and no matter how many times he blinked he just couldn't focus. He turned his head to stare at the ceiling, aware he was on his back, his head propped up on a plush pillow. He couldn't move his left arm, but he could move his right and he brought his hand up to rub his bleary eyes.

  
     That movement must have caught someone's attention because the next moment a figure appeared at the corner of his vision and he numbly felt someone's hand on his forehead, then pulling his eyelid down for a few seconds and briefly stopped bothering him. Corvo didn't resist, he understood what was happening now, he had it done to him before. Registering now that this room belonged to either Piero or Sokolov but given how comfortable it felt, he assumed it was the latter. Something between a medical room and a lab.

  
     "You're bleeding again." Now that was a voice he completely didn't expect, low and rough. It startled him and he looked again at the figure who stood over him, paying extra attention to the left side of him. Corvo squinted, willing his eyes to focus for a second at the very least. The man in the room wasn't Sokolov or Piero, it was Daud.

  
     "Should have closed up by now, I'm betting it's the sedative." The older Serkonan sighed, more to himself than to Corvo. Sedative? That would explain why all his senses were dulled and the floating experience he felt. Daud was pulling back the bandages that were wrapped tightly around his shoulder and chest to get to the injury he just couldn't feel, vaguely remembering his collarbone was damaged in the fall. He felt something carefully being dabbed against his skin.

  
     "What?" The Lord Protector mumbled, his tongue felt heavy the word itself didn't sound like it should. Whatever he thought he said warranted a laugh from the former assassin, a soft rumble in the other's throat.

  
     "If you're wondering. You've only been out for a couple hours. It's still pretty dark outside. One of my men caught you gliding off the roof of the tower and ultimately watched you crash." He said, putting aside a bright red cotton ball, now applying something sharp smelling to the injury again. The area started to sting and the most discomfort Corvo showed was just squeezing his eyes shut. It was uncomfortable but not painful. "I'm fairly surprised you woke up, Corvo. I've been sitting here trying to figure out how to break the news to Emily. You're full of surprises, I’ll give you that." He set aside the disinfectant drenched swab aside as well, carefully moving one hand to Corvo's back just to help guide him into a sitting position.

  
     This did nothing for the ethereal experience, the moment he sat up his felt his head swim and his eyes roll. Whatever Sokolov had put in his system was strong. The next thing he knew, Daud was applying fresh bandages again, with how close they were caused the back of the younger Serkonan's neck prickled. Corvo just closed his eyes, mentally counting backwards from ten. With the bandages secured, the former assassin carefully guided the other back down against the pillow and returned to a wooden chair.  
"When I said you should try flying, I suggested you start from the ground up not... From the top of the tower." Daud finally said after a while of silence when Corvo thought he'd end up drifting off to sleep again. He turned his head to look at the other man, trying to form a question and his mouth just wouldn't cooperate. Daud understood regardless.

  
     "Baby birds don't fly out of the nest when they're learning. They start from the ground. Controlled and less crashing." He explained. "Your wings fell off not long after I brought you here. No they're not permanently broken, you can grow a new pair. I've had my uh... Tail severed completely one time and it came back." He quietly murmured something else under his breath which Corvo did catch and laughed. It sounded like much to my disappointment. The laugh apparently caught Daud off guard since he gave Corvo a weird look and then it settled into an unsure smile.

  
     "If that sedative doesn't completely contradict your natural ability to heal, you should be up and running by the time morning comes." He assured. Whatever it was that was in his system Corvo wanted out. He was grateful for the fact he barely felt any pain, but it dulled his senses too much and with how Dunwall was harboring actual monsters... Apparently the brief panic was evident on his face because Daud snapped his fingers in front of his nose to get his attention.

  
     "Emily is safe, I promise. I know there isn't much trust between us, but I wouldn't just leave her to the hounds if you're incapacitated in any way," Daud said, touching his good shoulder gently. "I suggest you get some rest." Of course Corvo relaxed slightly to that report, probably thinking it was better to get some sleep while he could. However, before the Lord Protector could drift off to sleep, the door opened immediately.

  
     "Why didn't you tell me he woke up!" came the rather loud voice of Sokolov, directed at Daud and a little irritated. There was an audible sigh from the former assassin who put a gloved hand to his forehead, rubbing his temple like a bad headache just came in. "That is rather astonishing for you, Corvo. I didn't expect you to wake up only a couple hours after this man brought you in."

  
     "He should be healed already." Daud grumbled, but it was waved off by the Tyvian.

  
     "Nonsense. I speculated he'd wake in a couple days’ time. I saw the extra limbs, wings were they? Astonishing, that. I'm curious, what exactly are you? I wouldn't go running my mouth off to every guard and Overseer who are interested in the mark on your hand." Just one word after another, despite the sedative in his system, Corvo swore he felt a headache starting to rise.

  
     "He should be healed already," Daud insisted again, a frustrated frown pulling his features. Finally Sokolov looked to him.

  
     "With how much damage is done to his left side, hardly," Sokolov stated surely, arms folded.

  
     "No. By this time, someone with the curse would have mended broken bones by now due to the increased healing factor. It's survival," Daud told him, brows furrowed together.

  
     "And how would you know this?" the philosopher insisted, tilting his head back to look down his nose. Corvo heard an irritated sigh from the other Serkonan who then postured just as Sokolov did.

  
     "I happen to be one of the cursed, old man. I know my way around lycanthrope anatomy better than you do," he replied, voice grating. Sokolov stared at the other man, eyes wide for a moment. He put a spindly hand to his long beard, idly playing with it while he looked at Daud with a little more interest now.

  
     "Go on," the philosopher prompted, his interest piqued.

  
     "What did you give Corvo for the pain?" Daud asked, arms folding across his chest now that he finally got the Tyvian's attention. For a moment, the bearded man considered what the other asked, looking back over to Corvo and the injuries he sustained.

  
     "Opium." He replied finally. "I saw how bad his injuries were and I knew how much pain he'd be in. Breaking several bones on the left side and possible internal damage was going to be difficult to endure, and we both know how much pain Corvo can go through. By the time he got here, I saw considerable dark spots under his skin, suggesting internal bleeding. I would have performed surgery to repair the damage, but the spots began to recede. It was... quite interesting to say the least, right before my eyes. I figured I'd help him with pain management and gave him opium. Not a dose that would cause addiction or an overdose. The effects should wear off in the morning." He turned back to the former assassin.

  
     "You say he's stopped healing?"

  
     "Yeah, I did. I'm pretty sure Opium is fighting his natural ability to heal. These injuries here were supposed to be closed by now, the bones mending not long after. They haven't." Daud replied, gesturing to the areas in question.

  
     "Interesting. Very interesting." Sokolov hovered over the Lord Protector, examining everything with considerable amounts of curiosity. "I wonder what that could do with the beasts roaming around the city,” he murmured, and by the looks of it, Corvo could take a guess the old man was devising some new invention.

  
     "I wouldn't try testing it on Corvo." Daud growled, which surprised the younger Serkonan and Sokolov. By the looks of it, surprised the former assassin as well.

  
     "I wouldn't. I didn't know Opium had such effects. I won't be giving him any more," the Tyvian assured, standing straight again. The stare Daud gave him just made the older man smile. "You have my word. Corvo is a colleague of mine. I wouldn't put him through any experiments.” He put his hand up. Needless to say, he probably wouldn't with the Lord Protector, but he didn't say he'd try on another beast. Daud knew he wasn't particularly favored around here.

  
     The room remained quiet after that and though he waited for anymore conversation, Corvo drifted off to sleep. He wasn't sure when he did but he was woken up gently by the small hands of his daughter what felt like a couple minutes later. The clock on the table said otherwise, that he slept for several hours. Sure didn't feel like it. He could feel the pain in his shoulder and neck now, aware that the sedative has long since worked its way out of his system and while his eyes focused, he turned his head to Emily.

  
     "Mr. Curnow told me I'd find you here. He didn't tell me why though," she said, concern lacing her voice. "Are you alright?"

  
     Carefully the Lord Protector push himself up, wincing from the pain as he did and his good hand touched his shoulder gently. It was a slow process, but he managed and he looked down at his young daughter and gave a small nod.

  
     "I'll be fine. Nothing I can't handle," he replied, forcing a smile. He glanced around the room, finding neither Sokolov nor Daud. Absently, he wondered where the latter went, knowing well enough where the philosopher would be.

  
     "Good. Breakfast is already made but..." The hesitation in Emily's voice immediately caught Corvo's attention and he looked back to her. Now he took in what she was wearing, all black dress, something she didn't normally wear given she enjoyed brightly colored clothes, whites and blues, sometimes pinks and purples. The solemn image concerned the Serkonan and he tilted his head. He could also tell she'd been crying or holding back tears, either way her nose was pink and her eyes were puffy. Carefully Corvo touched his daughter's cheek lightly with the flat on his thumb, brushing over the soft freckled skin. She leaned into the touch, but he could tell whatever strong walls she had up were starting to fall. What upset her so much? Before he could ask however, every small detail clicked into place and it nearly made the Lord Protector's heart stop.

  
     Emily was wearing black for a reason. Today was the _18th day of the Month of Nets_. Today marked exactly a year since the death of Jessamine Kaldwin.

  
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     Corvo had cleaned up best he could with a good majority of his left side still broken from the previous night's adventures. His coat hung over his shoulders while his broken arm was practically pinned to his chest by the sling Sokolov had given him. He'd anticipated that the Serkonan would no longer need it by the end of the day but to make sure the bones healed right he should keep it on until then. He could feel the pain but by now it was dull, overshadowed by the pain in his chest. He'd been watching the day approach like a hawk and each day it grew closer the more he could feel himself dipping down into his sorrow. His failure to protect the late Empress from an untimely death, he wore it on his sleeve.

  
     Felt like a dreary day today, the skies dark and clouded over, threatening rain. Everyone was at attendance, wearing the same dark clothing, several different shades of black. The when Corvo lifted his head to scan the crowd, even with his mood dragged under, he was still a bodyguard after all, he couldn't pick out Daud's face. He could see several of his men had come but they were few and far in between, dressed the same as everyone else. The back of his neck prickled, as if to question how dare? Their expressions were guarded and he scowled. Might as well not show up then, just like their leader.

  
     As they approached the Gazebo, Emily close at hand with various guards right behind her and Corvo, she too was looking around, her big brown eyes scanning the crowd behind them as they stopped at the stairs. Her frown deepened as well, disappointment lining her face followed up by anger. She looked up at Corvo, eyebrows also knitted together.

  
     "I guess he doesn't have the heart to show up to her memorial," she murmured. "Her murderer can't even show his face." She looked back down, scowling at the ground and her cheeks getting a little red. Corvo put a hand on her shoulder, well aware she wouldn't take to being coddled but she welcomed the reassuring touch none the less. Lifting her head, a glance at her father for encouragement, she looked down at the dreary crowd before her.

  
     "Today at this place my mother, the late Empress Jessamine Kaldwin, was murdered," she announced, her voice loud but trembled against the emotion and she wasn't even sure it carried. It was likely the wind just blew her voice away but she tried anyway. All in all, Corvo was proud of her.

  
     "Today, we remember her." Unsure what to say next, Emily turned around and stopped. Concerned, Corvo looked over his shoulder and saw why she stopped. Nothing changed about the gazebo over the year, the stone and marble was polished on the daily so it remained a glass like shine. The headstone with Jessamine's name written on it also remained well taken care of, but no one often came here aside from the care given to this place. No one had been around it this morning, at least no one they saw.

  
     Right there right before the headstone laid a well-worn blade and crossed over it a single bloomed red rose.


End file.
